Blinded By The Dark
by Astrido
Summary: Abandoned, because i don t like it anymore! no rewrite! HPDM HP is accidently blinded by the Dursleys and abandoned in wilderness. What is going to happen when Snape is the one who finds him? light slash, Snape adopts Harry. Warning: NONCON, VIOLENCE!
1. Pain

Title: Blinded By The Dark

Author: Astrido

Chapters: 1?

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Warning: mild SLASH in later chapters. If you don't like it, don't read it! RAPE!

Disclaimer: None of J.K. Rowlings wonderful work belongs to me. It's all her's.

Summary: Harry gets accidently blinded by the Dursleys and is thereupon abandoned by them. What happens when Snape is the one to find him? Read and find out. A Snape adopts Harry fic.

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**Chapter One: The beginning**

It was evening. The sun had set not long ago, but it was still quite bright and a slow hot breeze ruffled the leaves of the few trees at Privet Drive.

The young man, living in number four, was oblivious to the beautiful sunset. He'd only been home for two weeks until he'd been locked in his small cupboard under the stairs – again. He didn't know what had made his aunt and uncle so angry, but they obviously were, and that was bad enough.

Since he returned to Privet Drive, his aunt had been screeching at him non-stop. Dudley treated him like his punching bag and would let him trip over his feet or something like that, like he'd always done.

Whatever his aunt and cousin might do to him though, it was nothing compared to the way his Uncle treated him. Uncle Vernon was… uncle Vernon - unfair and malicious. And if he was angry, for whatever reason – whether it was because he'd had a bad day at work, or whether it was because he thought that Harry was getting on his nerves - Harry knew from experience that he would bear the brunt of that anger.

He had experienced his wrath just a few hours ago again. Harry thought that something must have happened at his company, because his uncle had come home dead drunk when aunt Petunia and his cousin Dudley had gone to bed already. It wouldn't have mattered if they hadn't, they never noticed anything that happened to Harry and even if they did, they obviously didn't care. Aunt Petunia may scream at him but she had always let uncle Vernon punish Harry as he saw fit.

Harry had heard his uncle come home and slam the door behind him. He could hear him trip over imaginary things in the corridor near his cupboard door and Vernon had slurred a few unrecognizable, but clearly angry words so that Harry could tell that he was drunk. This had worried Harry, because he knew from experience that when Vernon came home like this Harry was in for a beating, or that he would simply vent his bad mood on him.

Uncle Vernon had pulled the from earlier beatings already severely hurt Harry out of his cupboard and dragged him into Dudley's second bedroom where he'd shut the door behind him. His uncle didn't have to threaten Harry to be quiet – he knew that already. Uncle Vernon had that look in his eye and Harry knew what that meant – he was in great trouble.

He didn't know what he'd done to make him angry and he didn't care because it didn't make any difference. The first time, when his uncle had done this to him, he had screamed for aunt Petunia or anybody else to help him. Help never came, because uncle Vernon had coerced his mouth shut with his fat fingers and had almost suffocated him. After that he'd known that if he didn't want to die he'd better be quiet.

Before the first time it had happened, Uncle Vernon had babbled something like that if he couldn't get it from Petunia then he would get it from Harry. Harry had known what would come then. It was what he'd done ever since. Harry was too weak and too small to be much of an effort, so he'd rather raped him than struggled with aunt Petunia, since she said she wouldn't have sex with him because he was too drunk, or whatever she said.

However, she didn't care if he did something to Harry, he only had to be healthy enough to do his chores, which he wasn't anymore.

**( explicit scene can be found on hpfandom . net) . **

* * *

By this time Harry began crying and pleaded faintly for his uncle to stop, but he knew he wouldn't. He never did. 

"Please.. I.. I'll be a.. a good boy!" He had begged.

"Shut up this instant or.." Uncle Vernon had replied scathingly.

He had shaken his head and struggled wildly in his uncle's grasp. His uncle had turned him on his back and had gripped his hips tightly.

The small boy didn't want this. But freeing himself with magic was out of option, he knew. He wasn't allowed to use magic and would have gotten himself expelled from Hogwarts. He didn't want to be expelled, because Hogwarts was his home, his sanctuary. Besides, he had to go on studying or he would never defeat Voldemort.

**(Scene cut out, look above )  
**  
"You've been a good boy for once," the over weight man muttered, as he rolled off the young boy and pulled his pants back up.

Relief flooded through him, only to be replaced with shame and helplessness. He was so pathetic. He couldn't even defend himself from a mere muggle. Fresh tears trickled down onto the filthy sheets. His mind had been in a thick haze and he had only caught half of what happened around him, because he had nearly entirely withdrawn from reality.

The room had been silent except for the faint labored breathing of Harry and the huffs of his still winded uncle.

He unfastened the handcuffs, which were bloody now, because the sharp edges had cut into Harry's delicate skin when he had tried to free himself.

Then uncle Vernon threw Harry's limp form over his shoulder, picked up the remains of his clothes, and carried him down the stairs before he threw him back into his cupboard with his clothes.

That was where the small boy was now. He lay half conscious on the tiny mattress that served as his bed, curled loosely into a tiny ball. He wondered whether there had ever been a time in his life when he had felt worse than he did right now, and decided that there wasn't.

The warning that the Order gave his uncle against treating him badly obviously had no effect on him at all. If anything, it seemed to have made him even more determined to make Harry's stay at the Dursleys' as painful as possible. He had no doubt that his uncle still remembered the incident with Fred and George's ton tongue toffee as well, and this probably added fuel to his fire.

If he had to be honest with himself, somehow he had known that it would come to this one day. His whole body was bruised and hurt like hell and he thought that he had some broken bones in his chest or his left foot, but he didn't know for sure. He was in too much pain to be able to really tell.

Even if he did, his uncle and aunt wouldn't bother to get him to a doctor. That would only mean he was officially declared incapable of working for them. Not having to be Petunia's slave was a small comfort considering that he would aggravate his injuries further, if he were.

However, they never had been so extremely violent before. This certainly wasn't the first time they'd been rough with him, but they had never hurt him so often as they had these holidays.

Since Harry turned eight Vernon had raped him six times – and THREE of those occasions were during this holiday break!

The order had a twenty-four-supervision on his home and the raven-haired boy wondered idly whether there was somebody that would rescue him.

_'How effective was their supervision if they didn't realise what was going on?'_

They probably neglected their work again, like they had the last year when the Dementors had attacked him and his cousin. Actually, they should know by now that the protection from his mother was annulled when Voldemort had gained a body with his, Harry's, blood again.

The supervision was useless, thought Harry. For all the good it seemed to be doing he may as well have been left on his own, just like the other years before. Then there hadn't been anybody to help him either.

He thought he'd been all alone and that he had nobody, until he found Sirius, but Sirius was dead now and any hope that somene would come for him had vanished when he died. The chance was that there at least someone existed that would be able to rescue him, even if he didn't, had shrunk to almost none. If the Order hadn't noticed that something was wrong, they were obviously too useless to do anything properly.

Harry had sent away Hedwig on the first day home, because unlce Vernon had told him to. When Harry did so, uncle Vernon had said he would kill any owl that neared his house and consequently Harry had sent a short note not to owl him.

He couldn't write to anyone and his contact line had been severed. Ron wouldn't write any letters because of his note and neither would Hermione or Remus who Ron had certainly informed. That eliminated all of his contact with anybody and anything outside of the house. He was trapped and he had no one.

Harry had no doubt that Sirius would have realised that something was wrong, and he would have done everything in his might to take Harry away from the Dursleys forever. But he, he had been killed. Two glistening tears rolled down his cheeks and he had to stifle a sob.

He had wanted to do many things with Sirius and had wanted to show him a few of his accomplishments. He would never know that he'd finally learned to use his magic without a wand. But that couldn't help him now. Magic was magic and the Ministry would take issue with him regardless of whether it was done with or without a wand.

He shifted his position on his cot. He was tired, but the pain – and his overwhelming sense of self-loathing - kept him awake. He was too scared to fall asleep anyway. His nightmares that had begun after the Tri-Wizard tournament and had grown worse after Sirius had died had kept him awake many nights.

That was not all, his screaming always woke the Dursleys and uncle Vernon would always reward him with a sound beating…that didn't come out right, but you know what I mean.

Harry idly wondered why he was being forced to suffer so much. He wasn't devoutly religious. He knew that there was a higher Order out there, something bigger than him, who watched over everything. Had he done something to deserve it? Yes, he answered himself. He was barely sixteen, but he'd done so many terrible things.

His friendship with Cedric had cost Cedric his life, he helped Voldemort gain power again. Only because of that stupid prophecy he had been captured and his blood had been used to resurrect the bloody bastard. And... and... his interference had gotten Sirius killed. If he hadn't been so stubborn and listened to Hermione and Snape, he would never have fallen into Voldemort's trap and Sirius wouldn't have died trying to rescue him. There was no excuse for that. But it hurt nevertheless.

Maybe he shouldn't be so friendly anymore. Who knew? It seemed that every time he was close to somebody Voldemort would murder him or her just to agonize him. So many people died because of him. His Mum and Dad, Sirius, Cedric and countless muggles. Harry thought it was a wonder that Hermione and Ron hadn't been murdered yet.

Maybe it would be the best, if he killed himself, so that he didn't have to experience their murder. There was just the problem that if he did that, the whole world would be lost, as he was told to be the only one to put an end to Voldemort's reign.

He didn't want to become a real murderer, though. Up to now it was just his fault that they died, but he didn't muder them directly. The small boy never thought himself to be capable to do that. He felt weak and helpless and he couldn't seek strengh of the people surrounding him, when they all died. So how was he to defeat Voldemort? To Harry it seemed an impossible deed.

How could he actually win when he couldn't even prevent his uncle from doing such awful things to him? He didn't know!

All he knew was that he felt dirty for letting a muggle do such things to him. He was a wizard, damn it. Wizards are supposed to be strong, and he was strong... normally. He was strong enough to at least duel with Voldemort and had done so five times, so why let he such a disgusting muggle get the best of him? He coudln't believe himself, even though he suspected that deep in his heart he knew why.

But at the moment all he felt was weak and used and dirty.

**TBC**


	2. Blind

**Chapter Two: Punishment**

"Get up, you freak! Dudley wants his breakfast!" aunt Petunia shrieked at him, banging against the cupboard door. Only then he realized he had stayed up yet another whole night.

"Yes, aunt Petunia!" He croaked, just so loud that she would hear. His throat was sore, because it was parched, but there would be no relief. Aunt Petunia never permitted him to drink even a bit of water from the tap. Whenever he prepared food in her kitchen, she would watch him to see whether he dared to sneak some of their food into his mouth, while preparing it for the Dursleys and if he did, she would slap him and make sure he was given no food for the rest of the day. It didn't matter, anyway. He only got food now and then when the Dursleys wanted to be lenient and never on a regular basis. If he were lucky, he would get the leftovers from dinner today.

He dressed as hurriedly as possible with his injuries. The pain had lessened over the night, but his back and his chest were still hurting like hell. His ankle and his bum hurt, too, but the pain there was manageable. His back had been bleeding, he noticed, when he saw the blood on the mattress. Harry had no real t-shirts, so he pulled an old baggy sweater and pants on. He didn't know which color they had possessed once, they were all a faded blue- or red-gray.

When he entered the kitchen slightly limping, she glared at him. She did always, but this day she glared harder than usual. That was why he knew that she noticed what happened the evening before. He assumed that either she noticed he was more hurt than yesterday, smelled the alcohol on uncle Vernon or heard him grunting when he... he...

And, of course, she blamed him for that his uncle had to do such things to the raven haired boy.

While Harry made bacon with fried eggs and toast, she rattled off her list of chores for him to do. He tried hard to remember what she was saying, but the combined effect of the pain of his injuries, and the fact that he hadn't eaten in two days made him want to pass out on the spot and he found it difficult to concentrate on anything other than not burning the food in front of him.

She gave him no list, he always had to remember everything. Dudley could do what he wanted, as usual. Everything was just as it always been here.

His aunt told him what he had to do every day. He didn't know why she told him day after day the same, but perhaps she thought if she didn't, he would make excuses for forgetting something.

His daily routine looked usually like that.

Making breakfast, weeding the flower beds, cleaning the dishes after breakfast, painting something, this day it was the garden bench, and there would he hell to pay if he splattered paint onto the lawn - making lunch, doing the dishes, vacuuming the whole house, wiping the tiling and dusting the stuff in the living room, making dinner and doing the dishes. Sometimes he had to dust the photos as well – he wondered tearily whether there would ever be one of him. Not that he wanted to be pictured with his relatives, but all the photos he had were taken at school.

"Don't be so slack with your work like yesterday and don't let that happen ever again, understood? You will finish the work of yesterday first, before you do the work for today. You won't get any food today evening, if you don't finish everything!" She admonished the raven-haired boy.

Fortunately, Dudley chose that moment to shuffle into the kitchen and he spared Harry the task of having to answer. Harry dished out the food, never raising his head, but looking longingly at the breakfast table and feeling a wave of dizziness from hunger again. When he was finished, his aunt shouted at him to get started with his chores and he headed out meekly, making his way slowly to the flowerbeds. He knew from experience that it was best to do the things she said in exactly the same order. Before he left the kitchen, he caught a glimpse at the calendar that hung at the wall next to the door and knew now that this day was Saturday.

_'This is bad'_, he thought. _'On Saturdays uncle Vernon and Dudley usually spend the day at home.'_

Harry looked forward to any day when unlce Vernon and Dudley left the house for any length of time. Uncle Vernon seemed to encourage his son's fondness for using Harry as a punching bag, but Dudley was harmless. He might punch him every now and then, but he usually found the Gameboy or the television much more interesting than his cousin. Uncle Vernon, on the other hand, was different. He really seemed to enjoy hurting him, and he went a lot further than Dudley ever would.

_'A few days ago, I heard aunt Petunia talking about Dudley going to his friends for tea today. That means I'll probably be alone with unlce Vernon. I hate weekends! He will observe me precisely and if he's in the mood for punishment for the slightest things, he'll get out his whip again.'_

He kneeled on the earth and his knees and hands were dirty. It didn't seem to matter to aunt Petunia that he'd just weeded the garden three days ago. At first he thought that she seemed to just give him things to do to keep him busy and make sure he didn't have time to do anything enjoyable. Now he suspected that she took delight in making Harry do physically demanding work while he was clearly injured.

This year, Dudley had come home frustrated one evening and uncle Vernon had allowed him to punch Harry as he pleased. That had left the small boy with broken ribs, he didn't count how many, a light concussion and a sprained ankle. His ankle had healed to some extent and he could walk normally again. The concussion had faded after a few days, but his ribs were still quite injured.

However, since yesterday when his uncle did that to him, his injuries seemed to have gotten worse again. His ribs hurt the most, but the pain wasn't too bad while he kept his breathing shallow.

Suddenly, he got really dizzy and his view swam. He fell forward, throwing his hands out and catching himself before he landed on Petunia's flower bed, a surge of pain stabbed through his chest. He knew that he was only an inch away from passing out.

"Get in here, freak!" uncle Vernon roared. Harry dreaded what he would have to do now. He cleaned up a bit, washed his hands under the garden hose and then limped as fast as he could to his uncle. Normally, he would wait for Harry in the living room, watching the telly, if he wanted him to do something for him. Today, he was in the kitchen, though.

"Finally, I hate waiting, you know that!" Uncle Vernon spat.

"Yes, uncle Vernon. It won't happen again." Harry answered meekly, looking down. Yes, he knew that he should come right away, when he was called. However, if he were too dirty, he would also be punished. His breathing increased in fear, but it was still shallow.

'Please, don't hurt me. Don't hurt me.' He thought frantically. His eyes were darting around searching for a reason that he was called.

"I hope so. Now, your aunt and Dudley went for a little shopping this morning, so do what you have to do, boy and take your time with me, you got that!"

He prayed for someone – anyone to save him from having to do this, even though he knew that no one would come. No one ever came and his silent cry for help stayed unanswered.

Trembling, he walked over to his uncle who leaned back heavily against the refrigerator that swayed precariously backwards and Harry almost felt sorry for the poor machine.

**(scene cut out)**

* * *

Harry had not heard him the first time, as he was busy throwing up on the kitchen floor.

"Answer me, freak!" Vernon barked. To say his uncle was angry was an understatement. He was furious!

"How dare you spit that out! Our kitchen won't be spoiled like that! You can't do anything right, can you? I always have to punish you! Do you think I've got nothing better to do than lecture you?" He raged while closing his trousers. Vernon's voice became louder and louder and Harry flinched under his tirade. He was throwing open cupboards and quickly rifling through them.

"I'll teach you to be so ungrateful. You wait till I find it. 'Deserved punishment', that's what this is. And believe me, you're going to be sorry," he snarled, crossing the kitchen to the cupboards behind Harry, kicking the small boy as he past him.

"Should have left you on the bloody step to die, or sent you off to an orphanage – ah, here it is," he cried, turning around and holding up a bottle to Harry. Through bleary eyes he saw his uncle holding a bottle of cleansing agent. Tears of pain and fear of what his uncle would do to him with the acid stained his face.

Harry scrambled away until his back touched the wall. Then he threw his hands up over his head to hide his face from him.

"No, no. Please, uncle Vernon, please! No!" he sobbed.

"Shut up, you freak!" he yelled and yanked Harry's arms away. The raven haired boy wrenched his arms out of his grasp immediately. He lashed out wildly and desperately, clawing and biting at his uncle wherever he could, but he was too small, and too weak, to really injure him. About all he managed to do was make it more difficult for Vernon to get a hold of him. His glasses had been ripped from his face some time during the battle he fought and along with tears blurring his view he saw now practically nothing anymore.

His uncle had had enough and he straddled Harry's hips brutally. The small boy was almost crushed to death under his uncle's weight and cried even harder. He desperately tried to free himself, because uncle Vernon could, and probably would, do anything to him with that bottle.

His uncle easily overcame Harry since he was considerably smaller than his uncle, and already weakened by his injuries. He screwed off the lid with one free hand and his teeth while he held Harry down with the other. Meanwhile Harry gathered his strengh for a last time, now that his unlce was distracted. He kicked and writhed, but it was no use. He couldn't get free. His uncle was too heavy.

His uncle seemed to have had enough of Harry's struggling, because he slapped him hard.

"Stop that finally, you freak!" He roared.

Harry saw spots in front of his eyes. Before he could fully recover, his uncle pried his mouth open and poured the cleaning agent in. Choking Harry jerked his head sideways and clammed his mouth shut. More of the liquid ran down his face and neck. Harry coughed and thrashed about under his uncle's firm grip. His skin was covered in fresh wounds and open cuts and the solution seared its way into all of them. It felt like Vernon had taken a thousand knives and plunged them into every part of his face and his neck.

"This is what you get when you don't do as you're told. It's your own fault," his uncle raged, pouring the rest of the solution over his nephew.

Harry couldn't wipe it away. He spluttered and coughed, choking on the liquid that had been poured into his open mouth and slipped down his throat, almost hoping that it was toxic enough to kill him right here.

Harry shut his stinging eyes and flung his head left and right to shake the moisture off, but to no avail. He screamed in pain and cried.

"You deserve nothing less. That I have to do this to you is your own fault. You are worth nothing, I should kill you right now and make it look like an accident. No one would care, and I'd be much better off," his uncle said coldly. "And stop screaming, for heaven's sake! The neighbors will notice you!"

Harry was struck in the face again and he bit his lip, drawing blood with the effort of swallowing his cry of pain. The combined effect of the pain and the effort of being silent under his uncle's rage made him feel dizzy. He could see blackness creeping into his vision and then there was nothing.

He woke slowly. He felt groggy. Then he became aware of the pain he was in, like the pain hit him without warning, bringing him to his senses. Every wound in his face hurt from the cleansing agent and his eyes stung. His eyes hurt him more than anything else. He opened his eyes a little but it triggered a fresh wave of pain, and he closed them again.

He sat up slowly and his broken ribs and bruised and battered limbs protested the movement. The sudden movement caused a wave of nausea to sweep over him. He doubled over and threw up whatever was left in his stomach, splashing some of the warm liquid down the front of his shirt, before he sank to the ground again. The taste of blood lingered in his mouth, but that was preferable to other tastes that might have lingered. He sucked a few deep breaths to evade the blackness creeping at his vision again, but it was futile.

The next time he awoke he didn't feel so groggy. However, he made no move to sit up. Instead, he cracked his eye open slowly, ready to squeeze it shut again if it caused him pain. It surprised him that it didn't hurt like the last time. He blinked a few times, thinking that everything was out of focus and tried to adjust his eyes to the dark. He resisted the urge to rub his eyes because he was sure that it was still painful to the touch.

It was dark and quiet and absolutely quiet. He heard nothing at all. Vernon must have thrown him in his cupboard after he'd passed out. He certainly wouldn't want him lying around the house and ruining the décor. Harry strained his ears but heard nothing. He must have been unconscious for some time, if everyone was already in bed. Harry breathed a small sigh of relief. At least no one would touch him so long as he was in his cupboard. He was safe…for now..

He groped for something to hold onto to help him sit up, but all he felt was grass beneath his fingers. Harry was utterly surprised and a little bit scared by his discovery. He focused his attention further on his environment and noticed that the air smelled slightly wet, like it did early in the mornings, not at all like the stale air of his cupboard. He could even smell the grass underneath him. A fresh breeze washed over him roughly, making him shiver, not caring that his skin felt raw, particularly on his face and neck, and that his body felt bruised and battered.

He swore under his breath while he strained his ears. He heard the faint sounds of birds chirping in the distance and bushes rustling. He was clearly outside somewhere, he thought.

'Why.. why is it so dark? It's never this dark outside, especially near sunrise.' He started to panic, looking around him, hoping to see something, anything. But there was nothing. He saw nothing. All he saw was darkness, blackness. He held his hand up in front of his face, but still saw nothing.

**TBC**


	3. Found

**Chapter Three: Found**

He began to wonder whether he was dreaming. But what an odd dream, and if he was dreaming, why did he still feel like he'd been hit by a truck? Everybody knew you were not supposed to feel pain in a dream. Not in normal dreams, anyway. It could be one of his visions, he mused, but normally he would see something then.

Dreams weren't supposed to be so… vivid, so… real, as well. His surroundings seemed almost alive. But if this wasn't a dream, then what was happening?

His breathing increased in panic and his chest constricted fearfully. Why couldn't he see? Was he blind? He felt his face beneath his fingers. His glasses were missing and his eyes hurt terribly again.

He forced himself to calm down and tried to stand up, but his legs gave out on him before he was halfway up. The boy stifled barely the scream when he fell on his back and his ribcage was jolted badly. Harry was definitely too weak for this sort of adventure. He drew his knees to his chest and buried his face in his arms, crying bitter tears. He was alone again, and nobody had come to help him – they'd never come to help him.

When his sobs had ceased and only occasional tears slid down his cheeks, he started to think.

'Where am I? I'm outside that much is clear, but where! What time is is? It's probably some time at the end of the night – it feels too cool for it to be daytime. What did the Dursleys do after I blacked out? Am I am really blind? Yeah, most likely or why else can't I see a thing? What do I do now? How am I am going to school next month? And if I did, what would Hermione and Ron say? Would they accept me? Perhaps, I don't know. Most likely not. Had there ever been a blind wizard? Is there a chance someone at St Mungo's could heal me? Even if they could, how would I get there? Where is the damn Order when you need it? Oh, Sirius, if you were there, all this wouldn't have happened.'

His body was racked with sobs and he cried himself to sleep.

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but he was woken by a voice yelling something and a kick at his shin.

"... Freak, what are you still doing here? I've been nice to you giving you the chance to run away from my house yourself. Obviously, you don't understand, so I'll get rid of you myself!"

Harry was paralysed with fear.

So he was on front lawn of Privet Drive, number four? Where was the Order? Weren't they supposed to be watching him? If he was on the front lawn, they would have picked him up, wouldn't they?

What was his uncle doing here? He had mentioned that Harry had had the chance to disappear... Was uncle Vernon just checking whether he had? Or was he simply going to his company and had seen him still there?

He was grabbed by the neck of his oversized t-shirt and roughly dragged across the ground, while he had to hold onto his pants for dear life.

"You can be lucky that I had to get up so early, so nobody will notice anything! Now I can say you just ran away." his uncle hissed near his ear.

He heard some sounds that he couldn't really identify and then he felt big beefy calloused hands lifting him roughly by the waist and dropping him down. He realised that he'd been thrown into the boot of a car when he heard the lid slam shut over him. He would have seen black for a few seconds, if he could have seen anything. He coughed a few times, pressing his hands firmly over his broken ribs in an attempt to stifle the pain. It was almost unbearable and he could only inhale slowly.

'_What is he going to do to me? Where is he going to bring me? Please, don't let him kill me. I don't want to die, though my life hadn't been the best. Mum died to safe me. I have to stay alive, if just for her sake. I don't fear death in itself, but I'm scared that I would miss something important I could have witnessed.Why is he taking me away? I don't understand.'_ He thought anguishly.

He wanted to scream but his throat was so raw that he only managed a weak croak. He whimpered quietly and then banged his fist on the lid of the boot. His arm soon became heavy and he stopped his banging, curling in a tight ball.

The motor of the car sprang into action and and trip similar to a roller coaster began.

_'Is he really going to murder me? Is he bringing me away so he can hide my dead body somewhere and leave no evidence?' _Fresh tears of despair and of the injustice of his situation rolled down his cheeks.

He was tossed this way or that as his uncle turned the corners. Harry tried to steady himself, but it was difficult with the pain he was in. He knew the wounds on his back had reopened because he could feel the blood running down his skin. He also had a few more scratches and he wouldn't be surprised if he had a bump on his head as often as he knocked against something. He desperately tried to find something to hang onto but his hands found nothing.

Vernon must have thought they'd driven far enough, because he finally stopped the car with screeching wheels after what felt like hours. Harry was thrown across the boot by the sudden jerk of the car. His eyes watered from pain and he let out a small scream.

Harry heard a car door slam shut and a second later the raven haired boy could hear the lid of the trunk open. He felt a rush of fresh air swooshing in the boot and he greedily gulped it in. He expected light to flood into the boot as well and was disappointment when he remembered that he hadn't been able to see anything for a little while now. He really was blind.

_'How am I am going to defeat Voldemort if I am blind?'_

Anger and bitterness welled up in him. Anger for his uncle and the Prophecy and bitterness for the people who pretented to care for him but had let him down.

Suddenly, uncle Vernon grabbed him and threw him to the ground.

"Where is this place? Where are we?" he asked fearfully.

His uncle laughed menacingly. "Why don't you use your freaky little ways to work it out for yourself? That rubbish they teach you isn't much good if you can't even work out where you are, is it?" Roaring laughter filled Harry's ears and he doubled over when he was kicked in the ribs. His uncle was still laughing when he climbed back into the car and started the engine. It seemed his uncle couldn't get away from him quickly enough, and his tyres spun on the dirt as he sped away leaving him alone. In the middle of nowhere.

_'What am I am going to do now? I have nothing, absolutely nothing left. Just these rags I'm wearing. And my wand is still with them, even though I can go a little bit wandless magic.'_ He hugged himself, partly because he felt completely helpless and partly because it was still quite cool. His injuries were still hurting a lot, but the pain had subsided into a dull ache. Harry was shaking from both the cold and from the shock of what just happened. He couldn't believe that this was happening. He was supposed to be the saviour of the wizarding world, but he couldn't even stand up to his own family. Why couldn't he have a normal life, like everyone else? Hot tears spilled over his cheeks and he wiped them away angrily.

He had to find shelter for the night. Determined, he tried to stand up which was more difficult than he'd thought because his ribs hurt terribly, just like his back and ankle. He made a few experimentally steps and fell. Obviously, he couldn't stress his left foot. It hurt just too much. He needed to find food, though. How would he survive otherwise? He briefly considered whether he should wait for someone to find him, but if Vernon had been trying to get rid of him, he wouldn't have left him where anyone could find him. He had always been on his own in his life, but then he had still had a semblance of a home. Now, he was homeless, lost. Tears once again spilled over his cheeks. He cried harder, because he knew he wished and longed for impossible things like a real family and someone to care for him.

* * *

Two weeks later+

Harry was walking across a small gravel walk. He knew, because he felt and heard the gravel crunch under his feet. He had quickly found a long branch and had been using it as a walking stick ever since, as his ankle hadn't healed well enough for him to be able to walk on it yet. It was easier to feel around with it to avoid walking into trees or falling into rivers, but that didn't mean that he didn't hurt himself by tripping over stones or scratching himself with branches. He had sustained quite a lot of cuts and bruises over the time.

His hearing seemed to have improved as well. At first, he was scared, because the sounds around him seemed to be just a jumble of noise, but now he could pick out each individual sound for what it was. He heard every rustle of a low breeze and trickle of water.

When he wasn't walking narrow and muddy cobble stoned paths, he found himself walking through fields or meadows, where he passed the occasional cow which would moo at him.

Once, in the first few days after Vernon had left him, while he was still just learning to adjust to his blindness, he ran into an animal, though he never quite worked out what it was. He had been lost in thoughts so that he hadn't paid attention to his surroundings and when he had suddenly touched an animal, he had gotten scared and had quickly walked away from it. It had had a lot of fur and it was about as high as his chest, though.

At some point, Harry had lost one of his shoes and decided that he was better without the other one, too. His baggy clothes were fast ripped and torn badly, but they still held together. As he had already allowed his hair to grow at the end of term, it was shoulder length now. He didn't know how it could have grown such a lot in that short period of time, but he didn't care either. He liked his long hair which unfortunately had become matted and greasy to the touch. And he smelled. He knew it. It had been a long time since he'd been able to clean himself. He had heard the sound of gushing water near him, but he stayed away from it. He had nearly drowned in a lake once, because he didn't know how to swim. And he didn't want to repeat that incident.

At times his thirst would get the better of him though and when this happened, he would only drink from puddles or very small creeks or ditches. He nourished himself with grass which tasted terrible, but worked reasonably well to still his growling stomach.

He'd also eaten quite a few berries and was amazed that he didn't get sick. Quite a lot of berries from bushes were poisonous. However, his hunger was stronger than the fear of poisoning himself so he took the risk.

He briefly considered wandlessly transfiguring something around him into food, but it probably wouldn't be edible afterwards. He'd never had this topic in Transfiguration and didn't know what to heed.

In any case, the Ministry would most likely swoop down and arrest him for practicing underage magic and he'll have to stand trial again.

Even if HE thought that this was lifesaving, he wasn't sure the ministry thought the same way. And he would have to cast spells more than once, which, he was positive, would be held against him, as well. He remembered the trouble he went through last time with the Ministry clearly and he really didn't want to go through it again. He knew that Dumbledore wouldn't get him out of the trial this time, because it was Dumbledore's fault that he had gotten in this situation in the first place. Then he would be expelled from Hogwarts for sure and he had no home to hope for anymore. He would be in danger of starving then just as well, because he would just get a letter telling him to come to the Ministry at a special date.

And as Hogwarts was his only hope of a normal life to some extent, he couldn't bear to lose it.

He kept moving, only stopping to rest when he had to. He needed to find his way back to London. If he could get to London, he'd be able to head back to the wizarding world and everything would be fine. His hopes of finding anyone to help him were fading though. Until now, he'd only heard three cars pass by and he hadn't met a single person.

He didn't know where he was going, but the warmth of the sun on the left side of his face told him he was going south. He thought it was better to find one direction and stick with it rather than to wander off in a hundred different directions and end up where he started from. All he knew was that he had to get to London. In London, he'd be safe. He could find the Leaky Cauldron and Tom the barkeeper who he could ask to take him to Hogwarts. The castle was his sanctuary. He only kept on living now, because he knew that someday he would be able to get there again.

The fact that he had a certain direction in which he was walking helped him to stay sane, too, though not to know whether he actually was walking towards London. He had never seen a map of London and environment.

He had run across a couple of snakes sometime who had wanted to attack him but he managed to talk them out of it. He asked them if they knew how to get to London, or whether there was anyone else around here, but they didn't know. The raven haired boy was dejected and felt even more helpless, but he kept on searching.

The weather had been quite warm, but without warning, a fresh wind had swept in from nowhere. Normally, Harry decided between day and night by the temperature, but in that time he lost his orientation completely. The chill crept right down into his clothes. He shivered from the cold and the air smelled like it was about to rain. The already sodden path was muddy and slippery from earlier downpours. His bare feet felt like they were frozen and hurt pretty much even if he was only walking. The pain that shot through his feet when he stumbled over a stone, though, was nearly unbearable.

A few minutes later, as he had predicted, it started to rain heavily. The last time had had been able to hide under a tree to avoid most of it, but this time there seemed to be no tree in proximity.

The small boy was completely soaked within minutes. He felt stiff and clammy. The wet clothes hang heavily on him and he wasn't able to move fast because of the howling wind and the slippery ground. Harry had already lost count on how many times he had nearly fallen and how many times he actually did fall. He was about to throw caution to the wind and use his magic when he heard the sound of a door slamming. A door! That meant a house! There was shelter nearby!

_'Please, let it be deserted, what ever house or shed there is. I am really not up to deal with people right now.' _he thought tiredly.

He hurried as fast as possible towards the sounds. After what seemed to be an eternity he had made his way to the shelter. When he entered, Harry carefully felt the ground around him with his branch before he moved any further. It smelt like a barn and the last thing he wanted to do was to step on any farm tools, or something like that.

Fortunately, all he stumbled across were a couple of rolls of hay. The raven haired boy tore them apart and lay down, sighing relieved, because his injured ankle hurt pretty badly. He was dizzy, his nose was stuffy and he had a headache. Deep covered in hay he fell asleep almost instantly, despite his still soaked clothes.

When he awoke, he noticed that his body felt heated, though he was shivering from cold.

_'Great!' _he sighed teary-eyed. '_I've got fever and a damn headache and I'm in the middle of nowhere with no help.'_

The hay tickled Harry's nose and he sneezed, causing his sore throat to burn and his already sensitive ribs to flare up with pain. More tears sprang to his eyes, but he did his best to blink them away. He also noticed that the hay was scraping on his sore skin.

His stomach growled loudly, reminding him of how hungry he was, but his throat hurt far too much for him to feel like eating too much. He thought his tonsils were swollen.

The need for water was so overwhelming that he took pieces of his shirt, which was still wet, in his mouth and sucked on them It wasn't much, but it would do for now. Then he chose to chew on a few straws of hay, as he was too exhausted to get up to search for food. He lay sleepily on the hay, not bothering about the world around him.

He was day-dreaming and drifting in and out of sleep, his mind unfocused. Later, he fell in a fitful sleep haunted by his dreams about Sirius.

_(dream)_

_Sirius was entering entered the barn and walked towards Harry with his hand stretched out to him._

_"Come to me, Harry, my dear Godson! Come with me…" Harry took his hand, and found himself drawn into a bone crushing hug. He wept tears of joy that his godfather had come for him and he clung to him, but he found that the hug was getting tighter and tighter and he began to have problems breathing._

_"Sirius, you're suffocating me!" Harry choked out, looking at Sirius in surprise. Sirius, however, didn't loosen his grip and he stared hatefully at Harry. Moments later, the face of his godfather changed into the face of Voldemort. Piercing red eyes bored into his own._

_„You are mine, Potter," he hissed. Harry screamed in horror and surprise and struggled to free himself._

_"No, let me go!" he screamed desperately. Voldemort sneered and pushed Harry's long hair away from his neck, moving closer to sink his teeth into the smooth skin underneath. Harry shut his eyes and braced himself for the worst, but nothing happened. He slowly opened his eyes and looked around him._

_Harry found himself in a nicely decorated living room. He was sitting on the floorand looked around him. Two people caught his attention. They seemed to argue and didn't notice the raven haired boy. Harry called a few times for them, but they never heard him._

_Then they turned around and faced him. Harry uttered a shocked gasp. The two people were his parents. The stared at him intently, but watched from their distance._

_"What are you doing on the floor, son! Stand up, now!" his father ordered in a sharp tone._

_"What?" Harry asked utterly confused._

_"I said, stand up like normal people do!" he commanded._

_Harry, fearing the worst leapt to his feet.He looked from his mother to his father and back._

_'What's going on? Surely, they wouldn't behave like that around me, would they?'_

_He faced his mother questioningly and she looked disapproving at him._

_"Cut your hair, son! It's awful!" she said scathingly._

_"But, mum. What's the matter?" He asked close to tears. He didn't understand their behavior. Why were they so mean to him!_

_"What the matter is, you want to know? I'll tell you._ _We died to protect you and you are living in the gutters. You let yourself be defeated by your relatives so that they could blind you. We died that you may defeat the dark Lord finally, but how do you think a blind child will be able to do that?" he started his rant._

_Harry thought that they sounded so much like his potions professor that something in him snapped._

_"NO CHILD SHOULD BE DEFEATING VOLDEMORT!" he screamed at them. "You are not my parents! No parent should say something like to his own child!" His was chest was heaving and he was out of breath. Strangely just then the world around him faded into nothingness._

_(dream end)_

The door slammed loudly and Harry booted awake, drenched in a cold sweat with silent tears spilling down his cheeks, forgetting the dream completely.

He heard no footsteps, but maybe the owner had come in and slammed the door? He didn't know and felt uncomfortable with the thought that the man might watch him.

"Is anybody there?" Harry called in a raspy voice, turning his heavy head toward the door and listening for a sound. But he heard nothing.

He was greatly disappointed that nobody came to rescue him and started to cry again. The small boy desperately wanted to be found and didn't care by whom. Weakly Harry tossed the strewn hay back over himself and fell asleep once again.

Four days had passed since Harry had crawled into the barn and he now woke properly for the first time. The time seemed to have worked its own magic on the young wizard. His fever had broken and his throat wasn't so painful anymore. His ankle felt slightly better but his ribs weren't any better yet.

Sitting up, he felt nearly fit again. Yawning profusely, he felt around for his walking stick and when he had found it, he stood up on shaky legs.

He had made his mind that it was best to leave now, because he was starving and didn't want to stay here longer than necessary. Who knew whether the owner liked him to be in the barn or not. Better not risk anything as the farmer would be a Muggle most likely.

A few days later, he had been quite a long time since his exposure, he was limping down a sandy path. He had hurt his food again when he tripped over a root from a tree the last day.

He was listening to the birds and the crickets and concentrating on staying on the path. He was swaying slightly, because he felt dizzy. It had been so long since he'd eaten something more filling than grass or berries.

The pounding of hooves caught his attention but he didn't dare gather his hope, in case he was disappointed. Harry hoped that the horse had a rider, but knowing the way his luck has been running it probably didn't, but his heart started beating fast in anticipation anyway.

The sound of the horse's galloping was getting louder slightly while it began to slow down somewhat and then it suddenly stopped. Harry picked up his own pace again, but stopped when he heard the creaking of a leather saddle and the unmistakable clinging of stirrups in front of him. The horse had a rider! Harry's heart contracted painfully in his chest and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry! This was his ticket out of here. He hoped that whoever it was wouldn't hurt him.

_'I almost had lost all hope to hear somebody at all! Please, let him or her be friendly.' _He thought somewhat happily. He eventually realized how exhausted and hurt he really was and the strain was falling apart from him.

"What business does a lad like you have on my property? How many times do I have to tell the bunch of you to stay away?" A deep voice snarled. It was obviously a man and an unfriendly no less. Harry thought the voice was familiar and knew only one person this voice could belong to. Harry's heart almost stopped beating. The hope he had was certainly shattered.

'That can't be true! Why does it have to be him, of all people?' He felt tears prickling in the corner of his eyes and his legs buckled. He sank to the floor, miserably.

"Answer! Or must I repeat myself?" ordered the voice above him. He merely shook my head no and did nothing except from burying his face in his hands.

The last person the small boy would ever want to meet up with was his professor, particularly in this state. But he was a little puzzled about Snape.

_'What happened to calling me Potter? Surely he'd be thrilled at seeing the great Harry Potter reduced to this…'_ Harry inwardly laughed bitterly. Then he wondered why he wasn't calling him Potter. Did he not recognise him? Apparently not, but why? Ah, perhaps he was too dirty and grubby, he thought. And he had long hair till down under his shoulder blades. He was severely malnourished, far too small for his age and had quite feminine features that all girls at school had always loved dearly. No wonder, Snape didn't recognise him, but Harry was thankful for that.

The question was, what would he do if he did? Harry didn't want to imagine that. And wished his professor would leave him alone. He didn't know whether he could stand the usual threats and scathing comments.

Then a sob escaped his lips and his body started shaking. Harry fell to his knees and he sat down. He heard movement above him, but he ignored it.

_'I'm so pathetic. Crying in front of my least favourite teacher.'_

He mentally slapped himself, but he didn't stop crying. He couldn't. The pain in his body and his heart was excruciating. He had hoped to be rescued finally, but it didn't seem to be his day. His heart was aching with disappointment and sadness. All the feelings he had suppressed during the last weeks were coming to the surface. That he had been raped, that he had been blinded, that nobody came to save him, that he mustn't use magic and now that his teacher who hated him beyond reason found him in this state. Tears flooded his face.

Suddenly Harry felt a hand touch his shoulder and he screamed, flinching back from the touch. He skidded further away and wrapped his arms around his torso. Trying to calm his erratic breath, he started rocking back and forth. Then there was the hand again, this time on his arm. He yanked his arm away and crouched as far as he could. The hand wouldn't stop. Fresh tears flooded from his eyes.

"Please, stop it. Don't... don't touch me!" he managed to whisper between sobs. Then his mind went blissfully blank, and it finally surrendered to the stain and exhaustion of the past few weeks.

**Tbc**


	4. Of Snape manor and Interrogations

**Chapter Four: Of Snape manor and Interrogations**

Snape was relieved. Before each school year began he would have to spend a month in the Hogwarts dungeons brewing enough potions to re-stock the hospital wing. He really hated doing that, but he knew that it was necessary. This time however, the Headmaster had told him that the hospital wing seemed to have enough potions to see them through the first semester of the year, so Snape was able to spend that extra time at home.

To celebrate his unforeseen extra time at his manor he had saddled one of his favourite horses for going on a long ride. He hadn't done this in years. The grooms he had employed for his twenty horses when he was at Hogwarts or otherwise engaged were riding them as well. He knew he had too many horses, but they were prominently bred and he didn't want to sell them. He thought that he sold enough horses each year. Snape had made quite a fortune with selling his bred horses.

His favourite horse was a black Frisian stallion. He was quite tall and really friendly, despite his enormous appearance. Snape rarely had the luxury to enjoy a ride around his immense property and decided that today would be a fine day for doing just that. The people from the surrounding villages never entered it. He had forbidden exactly that. Nevertheless some of the lads seemed to think it was funny to trespass his grounds. He was respected by most of the famers for his money and possessions, because most of the land they were growing their corn on was his. But these youngsters didn't bother that and the fact that he could take away their fields easily, if he wanted, neither.

They didn't know he was a wizard, but they feared his intuition of knowing where they troubled him, because his wards alerted him and he immediately apparated near them.

His horse seemed to enjoy having his owner on his back again and galloped with an extra spring in its step. The wards alerted him to the presence of more intruders on his property, but he decided to continue his enjoyable ride and let Mencor take him right to them instead of apparating, as he normally would have done.

He already spotted the child from a great distance. Slowly he slowed down until he halted a few feet from the child. He examined the child and guessed it was a girl, because she had the hair down to her waist. She was still quite young, perhaps eleven or twelve. She was really dirty and her clothes weren't in the best state either. Snape wasn't too surprised, because nearly half of the children in the surrounding villages looked similar. In her hand she held a branch, probably as a walking stick and her head was lowered.

"What does a lad like you have to do on my property? How many times do I have to tell the bunch of you to stay away?" he asked her snarling. She didn't aswer, but fell to her knees.

"Answer! Or do I have to repeat myself?" he asked her menacingly. He had never had patience with children. Why he had become a teacher was a mystery to him.

She shook her head no and buried her face in her hands. Snape didn't know what she wanted to say with that gesture. But then he heard a sob.

_'I really don't know why she started crying now.' _He thought and sighed inwardly. A Girl's behavior was always a miracle. He dismounted his horse and kneeled down in front of her. He touched her lightly on her shoulder to gain her attention. However, the reaction he got startled him. She let out a piercing scream and flinched violently. Then she crawled away from him.

_'What was THAT?_' Snape asked himself. _'Normally, no one reacts this way, even if she was scared!'_

She had started rocking back and forth, whimpering. Again, he tried to get her attention, but failed. He had touched her on her arm and she seemed to try to creep into herself.

_'Why is she behaving like this? Stupid child.' _He thought and just as he wanted to stand up again, she wispered something.

"Please, stop it. Don't... don't touch me!" he had barely heard what she had said. Then she went limp and fell sideways to the ground.

"Great. What do I do with her now?" he muttered. "I can't leave her here now, can I?"

_'I wonder why she is so scared of touches. Has she been abused at home?' _He sighed and looked down at her. The day had started so well when Albus told him he didn't have to go into school. But now he was stuck with that mucky child.

After pondering for a while, he decided that he would take her to his estate on his horse. Even he wasn't so cruel to leave her on her own. Snape scooped her up and carried her to his horse. How he was going to get her to his manor now, he wasn't sure.

Eventually, he had arranged her and himself on his horse. She sat astride in front of him, her back towards him. He was holding her steady with one arm around her waist, the other one held the reins. In walking speed they rode to his manor. Snape needed half an hour to get back. When he was there, he knew that he would have to drink a potion or he would be sore all over the next day. He wasn't used to riding for so long anymore.

The grooms were working in the stables and he gave his horse to them to look after. They were looking curiously at the girl, but they knew not to ask. Nevertheless, he shot them a stern glance to silence them.

Then he carried the unconscious girl to an unused bedroom. Once there he called for a house elf to bring him warm water and a cloth. Meanwhile, he went to his lab to fetch some potions the girl might need. He sensed magic within her, powerful magic, but he didn't recognise her as one of his students. He found that quite odd, because all magic children in and around London went to Hogwarts. But because of the magic he took her to his manor and not to a muggle doctor. She would be pretty scared to see the elf otherwise and ask too many questions about his potions. Maybe she was still scared about the elf, but she would understand.

She was too small to be in the upper years, but she should be at Hogwarts already. Second year probably. Funny, that he never had seen her yet. Or he merely didn't notice, but he dismissed that thought quickly. He remembered every child he had in his lessons. Maybe she was a witch, but never accepted the Hogwarts letter. If she was from the villages, that would be quite understandable. Some of them were so poor they barely could nourish themselves.

When he returned the elf had done its duty and the girl was awake again.

* * *

Harry groaned. Everything hurt. His eyes fluttered open, but he was used to seeing nothing. He had lived with it long enough now.

Then he listened for sounds that would tell him where he was, but there was nothing. It was dead silent. Not a trickle of water, not even the whisper of the wind. He became scared. Normally there were always some sounds around him.

Frantically, he groped for something he knew. He was lying on something really soft, he noticed.

_'A bed?'_ he asked himself._ 'Why am I am lying on a bed? Where am I?'_

Before he could do someting else there was the sound of a door opening.

His head spun around to face the incomer.

"I see, you are awake!" a voice commented surprisingly near. He remembered what had happened and fearful of what the other one would do, Harry moved a bit away. The professor had taken him to a house, but that didn't stop him from being wary around him. After all, Snape never had been nice and the two of them were completely alone.

"What's your name, girl?" the professor asked. He didn't know where Snape was exactly, but he was almost at the same spot he had been before.

_'Girl? GIRL? I'm no girl! Why do you think I am a girl? Just because I've got long hair? Surely not, or?' _he thought furiously. If the professor didn't know who he was, even mistakes him for a girl, he wasn't going to tell him who he really was. Even if he was confused that Snape didn't recognised him. 'Think, Harry! A name...'

He remembered a name that he had read in one of the old books that Dudley had discarded which then had landed in his second bedroom.

"Laures!" Harry answered hoarsely. His throat hurt. He hadn't spoken in a long time.

"That's no girls' name!" the professor remarked suspiciously.

"And I am no girl!" Harry answered harshly. He raised a hand to stroke his sore throat a bit, hoping the burning feeling would fade. He noticed that he was still dirty and his matted hair fell in his face. He shivered imperceptibly and he was really hungry, though he felt like he wouldn't stomach it. He had barely eaten in the last weeks and surmised that his already thin frame looked equally.

At some point, he wondered why Snape hadn't noticed his scar – and therefore him - as it was quite obvious normally. Maybe, he thought, there were too many other scars on his face or his scar had gone less red as it hadn't hurt when he had been in wilderness and was now like every other scar would be – a faint white line.

"Ah!" the professor uttered, his voice slightly tainted with surprise.

"Sit up!" Snape demanded shortly after.

'Huh? No biting comment on a boy being queer, because he looks like a girl?'

Harry felt somewhat unsettled, but then he reminded himself that Snape didn't know who he was. He tried to do what he was required, but he failed. He felt weak and had had closed his eyes again.

"May I help you?" Snape asked gently.

_'Huh? So nice all of a sudden? What's up with him!'_ Harry thought astounded.

"You can try." Harry replied cooperatively. He didn't like to be touched, but he was thirsty, and if he was going to get some water, he would at least try to sit up. Harry thought that it was a wonder Snape paid attention to the prior incident at all.

When Snape touched him under his right armpit to lift him, though, he freaked out. He whacked the hand away and crawled back until he was pressed against the headboard, shuddering. Shielding his head with his arms, he tried in vain to calm down. He started crying and soft whimpers escaped his lips. He didn't know why he had reacted this way, because he hadn't wanted to. The small boy hoped he wouldn't be punished.

He sighed. The girl, no, the boy wasn't easy to handle. He didn't know anymore what he could do to make him drink the potions without having a fit. He had never dealt with chiildren that were abused to such extent.

He hadn't wanted to use his magic to force the child to cooperate, but he saw no choice. Slowly he drew his wand and cast a strong calming spell and then a sleeping charm.

The effect was immediately and Laures sunk down on the pillows. Snape carefully fed him the potions directly afterwards. He didn't know when Laures would wake again, if touching caused him so much panic. He was just sleeping normally after all.

After a few difficulties Snape got Laures to down a pain-numbing and bruise-fading potion, a nourishment and a dreamless sleeping draught.

Then Snape carefully undressed him. Yes, the child was telling the truth. He was definitely a boy.

What he saw on his small frame was scary. Laures' body was covered over and over in mud, bruises and cuts. His rips stuck out oddly, because he was so thin, and he saw that a few of them had been broken. He was no medi-wizard, but he knew spells to detect injuries. And Laures had a lot of them. He instructed a house elf to find his salve that healed the cuts.

Meanwhile he took the cloth and washed Laures gently. When he was free of dried blood and mud, Snape saw that the boy was covered in even more cuts than he had thought.

The house elf arrived with the jar and Severus rubbed the salve gently on Harry's skin. The minor cuts closed completely and left no scars behind. The bigger ones left red marks that would fade in a few days after more application. The bruise-fading potion was working as he could see, but Laures bruising was so severe that he would have to put salve on them later, too.

Then Snape detected an oddly shaped cut on his forehead. It looked similar to the famous scar the Potter boy had, but he surmised that it had to be an unfortunate coincide that the cuts were shaped like this, because Laures was so much younger and looked fairly different than that spoiled brat. For one thing, Laures' eye colour was a faint red mingled with light green. But he would ask him about the scar later.

When he had taken care of Laures' injuries as much as he could for the time being, he searched for some pyjamas that would fit him best. Eventually, he dressed him in a pair of his that he used to wear when he was younger, when he had been young. They were still too big for Laures, but he had no smaller ones. He tucked him in and left the room.

He would have to ask him about his home and such later.

The next day Snape looked after him a few times and always found him sleeping.

'_Seems that he needs the sleep.'_ he thought and carried on with his daily routine of brewing potions for fun and invention.

He didn't have to care for the animals he owned, because the house elves were feeding most of them And the grooms took care of his horses. They were surprisingly muggles who came from the village near by. The owls and the cat were fed by no one, they got there food themselves.

The next time Snape looked after Laures he saw that his cat seemed to like him, as she lay curled up next to him on the pillow. He didn't know what to think of Laures and remained standing in the doorway for a while. It was comforting to watch his chest rise and fall slowly. His face couldn't be seen clearly, because the comforter and his long black hair were covering most of it.

He didn't like children in general, but somehow Laures didn't bother him as much he thought he would.

Then Laures stirred, but he didn't wake.

He decided it was best to go and went to tell Albus that he'd picked up a young boy. He wanted Laures to be checked by Pomfrey. So he walked into his office and flooed to the headmaster's office.

To Snape's relief the headmaster actually was in his office. He wasn't fond of running through the whole damn castle to find him. Albus' eyes were twinkling like mad like they always did and he was sucking what was most likely a sherbet lemon, as the first thing he asked was whether Snape would like a piece of said sweet.

He declined like always and sat down unbidden in one of the arm chairs.

"Why are you here, Severus? I thought you would enjoy your deserved holidays or had there been a Death Eater meeting?" he asked kindly.

"No, Albus. Everything is fine. I just found a stranded boy who needs to be looked over by Madame Pomfrey." he aswered quietly.

"Oh, is that so. I'm sorry, but Poppy isn't here. She's on holiday with her husband." Albus replied chuckling, knowing that this answer would make the potions master angry. He was right. Snape sighed and said irritably.

"Great. I don't want to have the boy to spoil my free time."

"It's only three weeks until start of term, my dear. And I'll tell you as soon as Poppy is here again!" Albus told him.

"Then I will have to go to the infirmary to get some salves for the boy. Good day, Albus!"

"I have complete faith in your skills, Severus, that you'll do what is best. Good day!"

Snape stood up and walked out of the office.

Harry woke slowly. He was buried in soft material and inhaled the soft scent from the bedding drowsily. A content sigh escaped his lips. He had rarely felt so wonderful when he woke and wondered why that was so. He turned from his stomach to his side. There. He knew something had been different. The pain was nearly gone. He was only still a bit sore, he thought.

'How..?' he thought, but just as he asked himself, he remembered. He had been picked up by his professor and obviously taken to his home. He was definitely not in the infirmary of Hogwarts, because the beds there weren't this soft and fleecy.

Suddenly he was taken from his reverie when something meowed. Frightened he held his breath and pressed his eyes firmly shut, not that it made any difference. His heart was beating rapidly.

Then a similar sound repeated. Slowly his mind caught up. He realized that the sound was uttered by a cat that sat shockingly near him. Cautiously he resumed breathing and his pulse normalised somewhat.

Then he felt gingerly around himself, until his fingers touched the soft fur of the cat. He sat up and took her into his arms. The cat seemed to like that and began to purr loudly.

Harry sighed and cradled the cat a bit closer. If it hadn't been for the fact that this was his professor's house he would have liked it here. But maybe he did nevertheless, he wasn't certain.

After quite a while had passed in undisturbed peace and silence, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in!" Harry called quietly. The door was opened and closed again.

"Obviously, Socrates likes you. Normally, he's more reserved to strangers." he was greeted by Snape who came into a halt somewhere to the right of him.

"Who? Oh, you mean the cat." The raven haired boy replied. "She's nice! May I ask why you are here?"

"Yes!" Snape answered. "I want to ask you a few questions now, since you weren't able to do so the last time." He stated calmly.

"Oh, okay!" Harry shifted into a straighter and more comfortable position so that he could face Snape.

He heard Snape moving, but he wasn't sure what he had done, though he assumed Snape had sat down.

"So, let's start. You said your name is Laures. What's your surname?" he asked promptly.

The small boy began squirming inwardly. He didn't want to tell Snape who he was as he was certain that he would be mad at him for not telling him at the very beginning. Harry feared, the potions master would be furious and then sent him away again.

He didn't like Snape, but here he would be safe. Snape's house was most likely as heavily warded as his uncle and aunt's house. Harry supposed that he might stand the potions master as long as his wrath wasn't directed at him.

"Uhm... do I have to tell you? I don't like the name." He asked cautiously. How he would have liked to read the face of his professor now. It was best to know at least slightly in which mood he was to response to that. But now he had to rely on his hearing and he didn't know whether he could identify his mood by his voice. Sure, he had adjusted to being blind, but that didn't include deciphering people's moods.

"It would be easier to get you back to your family." Snape answered vaguely.

_'Great!' _Harry thought and hung his head. _'I don't want back to them!'_

"I have no family." He replied instead.

"No? And where did you live until now?" the professor asked sneering.

"I have no parents!" the small boy insisted. "I lived with relatives, but they sent me away."

_'No need to tell him, I was dumped in wilderness after I got beaten to a pulp. I think it's better to leave the details out.'_

"And why did they send you away? Where do they live anyway?" Snape went ahead.

"Er.. they... they don't like me!" he said in a rush.

-"Where do they live?" he asked again.

"They.. they live in Surrey!"

He added quietly and bit his lower lip nervously. His throat hurt again and his unseeing eyes were still turned to his lap and the cat in there.

_'I hope that's inaccurate enough.'_ he thought. _'Why do I tell him that at all? He doesn't need to know these details.'_

"Why don't they like you? And did you really walk all the way here? That's more than 30 miles!" He ascertained suspiciously.

"Uh.. I.." he stopped and merely shook his head no. Then Harry realized it would be strange if he didn't ask for the professor's name. From the outside the raven haired boy didn't know Snape.

"Can I ask you a question?" he inquired whispering.

He just knew that the professor's eyebrow had risen, even if he didn't see it. It was too typical for him.

"You may." He answered slowly, obviously thinking hard.

"Er..What's your name?" The small boy stuttered sheepishly.

"You can call me Mr. Snape or Sir, if you like!" he said after a small pause.

Harry nodded affirmatively.

"Are you hungry?" Snape wanted to know, but Harry declined and asked instead.

"Sir, why are you taking me in? You didn't have to do that! And what can I do while I'm here?"

"You were in an awful state when I found you. Even if I don't like children, I wouldn't let one die. And I can bring you a few books later if you want to." He explained in an even tone.

"But-"

"No buts! Rest now!" he interrupted Harry.

"But I can't read." He blurted out before Snape could interrupt him again. The small boy was sure that the professor looked at him with utter disbelief and shock after this confession.

"You can't? But you are at least eleven or twelve years old." Snape asked astonished.

"It's not that." he replied overlooking the remark about his wrong age. After a while he continued, because the professor seemed to wait for an answer.

"I don't want to tell!" he mumbled, fidgeting with the sheets.

"Sure, you don't. But someday you will have to tell me!" Snape replied. Harry could hear him standing up.

"I'll come back tomorrow. It's late. Rest for now!" he said somewhat reassuringly and closed the door softly behind him.

_'Great. What had that been all about?'_ he thought whilst stroking the cat absentmindly. 'He had definitely behaved different. And the questions had been more than odd. Why did he say, he doesn't like children and then asks such personal questions which have nothing to do with my residence? I don't get it.

And what did he say? I'm eleven or twelve? Surely, I'm not looking that young, am I? I'm sixteen, for heaven's sake!

Then I would really like to know why he didn't notice my scar since it is in plain sight normally. Did something happen to it? Alas, I don't think that I can ask these questions! He would only get even more suspicious and I don't need that!

It would be great if he never knew that he took care of me, the bloody boy who lived.

What would Hermione and Ron say if they found out? Ron would certainly throw a fit and wouldn't talk to me for a week , because I had been nursed by Snape of all people. Though, I don't see what's so bad about him. Okay, he is never friendly to anyone, but that didn't revoke the good deeds he did. For once, he is spying in Voldemorts ranks, which in itself poses him in mortal danger only for helping the Order. Then, I can't count the times he helped me, even if I still don't know why he did it as he seems to hate me. And now he rescued me, albeit unintentionally.

I wonder what Sirius would have said to this. He would certainly have said something bad about the 'bat', as he liked to call him.

Sirius, why did you go? I miss the bad jokes you always made and the kindness you showed towards me. You were like a father to me! But now you are gone and it's entirely my fault. If I hadn't gone to the ministry, you would never have followed me and fallen through the veil.'

Silent tears rolled across his cheeks and dripped on the sheets where they vanished into nothingness. He lay down and curled into a tight ball under the covers. His heart ached, but he knew that he had to come around eventually, only not now. Crying the small boy fell asleep.

TBC

* * *

Hi guys.

Sorry that I'm only talking to you know. well, i just wanted you to know that annonymous reviews can be posted now as well. I didn't realise the option was diabled.

Thanks for everyone who has reviewed already! I appreciate it. I had this story uploaded some time ago, but some people thought it was too violent and told the admins (except that i've seen more violent ffs than mine and I DIDN'T tell on them!) , so it was deleted. **you don't have to do it again, i cut out all the more extrem scenes!**  
I know that some of the really good stories were deleted for the same reason. it is really sad, because sometimes you can't find them anymore. they normally don't take NC-17 here, that's why, maybe.anyway, i have the story already uploaded to the 12th chapter on and animexx.de.

cyu as


	5. the stables

**Chapter Five: The Stables**

Snape sat in his study, thinking. He had questioned the boy, but the answers were vague and he was almost as wise as before. He knew now that the boy was abandoned which made the situation even more difficult. He couldn't send him back to his relatives, but what to do with him? He didn't even know whether he went to Hogwarts or not. Maybe I'll send him anyway.

_'Actually, why can't he go back to his relatives? I'll have to ask him next time. He was already upset enough. I wonder whose parents, or relatives, would willingly send a small boy away. I'm sure that he merely misunderstood them and ran away afterwards.'_

He stood up again and decided that it would be best if he asked him now, because his thoughts would only go in circles and he wouldn't find an answer.

_'I really don't know why I'm doing this for the idiot child. He is certainly like all other young children at Hogwarts. Getting on my nerves and doing stupid things.'_

But on midway his eyes fell on a window. Surprised that it was so late already, he made up his mind not to disturb Laures anymore. Snape went to his own bedroom and lay down. His body was exhausted, but his mind was working too much to sleep.

Eventually he fell asleep, too.

* * *

Harry was wide awake as soon as he opened his eyes. He sat up, but covered himself more with the comforter, because it was quite chilly. He didn't know what time it was, but he didn't care.

When he got used to the coolness, he got up.

He subconsciously reached out with his magic for a living being, but he found nothing. He knew – though he didn't know why - that the cat wasn't there anymore. Then, there were a lot of things he did that he had no clue about why or how he knew them. He took them for granted until he knew more about the whole thing.

His stomach growled. He was still so hungry. Harry thought that Snape might not turn up soon and contemplated going in search of the kitchens by himself. He guessed that he would manage it somehow. It was a dangerous venture, but he wouldn't wait for Snape to turn up sometime.

Opening the door he listened closely for any sound. Everything was quiet. The raven haired boy slipped out of the room and randomly chose to walk along the left corridor.

After a short time Harry reached stairs that led down. He descended slowly, firmly gripping the banister. Then he turned aimlessly to a direction, one hand always on the wall. He was very afraid of walking into something, because he didn't have his walking stick to feel around the floor in front of him anymore, though he hadn't so far.

Snape's house was big, really big and very neat. It seemed the corridors were completely empty except for a few paintings he could feel under his fingertips. He had tried to ask the way, but all he had gotten were cryptical answers that only confused him even more.

His foot started hurting after a while and he was limping again. He felt rather stupid, now that he went around in this unfamiliar house on his own.

Snape also would be furious if he caught him 'wandering' around in inappropriate places.

Suddenly the corridor ended in a door. He contemplated opening it as the kitchen would have a door. Harry decided for it and opened the door and walked through.

The sounds that greeted him were unexpected. He seemed to have arrived at some sort of stable or so. He could hear faint shouting of two or three people. They appeared to be outside the stable. Insecurely he stayed were he was and listened to the sounds to orientate himself.

It seemed that he was nearly in the middle, because he could hear animals to both sides of him. The animals had to be cows or horses from the sound of it.

_'Right. I heard Snape riding when he found me!' _So he reasoned the animals were horses.

Slowly he walked along the right aisle. The voices were coming from this side and he wondered whether they could help him. He felt utterly lost and hungry and wanted to find the kitchens.

The small boy felt intimidated by the big creatures and tried to avoid coming in contact with them. Fortunately, the aisle was broad enough to sidestep the big heads that were stuck out when he neared. He deemed it pure luck that he sidestepped in the right moment, because he couldn't see. He assumed that he could somehow sense their presence.

But then suddenly a horse to his right was moving and his head bumped into something. Harry screamed hoarsely in surprise and stumbled to the floor. Afraid he remained crouching and hid his head in his arms. His heart was beating fast in anticipation and his chest constricted in fear. He reached out with his for the animal so feel where it was. He hoped that he won't be detected by the ministry for doing underage magic, but he wasn't actually doing a spell, was he?

The horse's head was quite near. It was bent down and Harry could feel the warm breath on his skin. He was shaking by now and when the mouth touched his lower arm he whimpered quietly. Tears moistening his clothes. The small boy felt his mind drifting away, loosing contact to his surroundings, to reality. But he didn't mind. It was like a relief, not feeling anything anymore.

* * *

Snape awoke around ten o'clock. After having washed and dressed, he ate breakfast in a small dinner room. Then he thought that Laures most likely was hungry as well and ordered a bowl of broth from the house elves. He mused how he could introduce Laures to magic. There was no chance in hiding that from him. The house elves would be obvious enough, even if he didn't do magic. But maybe the boy knew he was a wizard already and he was fussing over nothing.

He was on the way to Laures' room when the bell rang that the grooms would ring when something had happened outside.

_'God, what's wrong now!' _He sighed and turned._ 'I really hope they've got a good reason for this.'_

He entered the stables, irritated. One of the grooms came running towards him.

"What is the matter?" he asked grouchingly.

"Sir, a girl. I don't know how she came in, but she's there." The groom said slightly out of breath.

"Where is what for a girl, Mr Tompson!" Snape asked, but he had a nagging suspicion that it was Laures, however unlikely that was, as he was supposed to be sleeping.

"A small girl is back there." Mr Tompson said, pointing somewhere behind himself. "Maggie had heard a scream and we looked for who it had been and found her then."

"Show me!" he instructed the middle aged man. Snape was led to a woman squatting in front of a small bundle. She was trying to touch the girl and talking in a low voice to her. When she saw him nearing she made space for him. He looked down at the bundle thoroughly and knew immediately that it was Laures.

_'Great.' _He sighed inwardly._ 'What is he doing down here! He is supposed to be in his bed, not wandering around. I should have told him to stay in his room.'_

He kneeled down and touched his shoulder to show him he was there. Then he gathered the small boy in his arms and lifted him up. He was worried about that the boy was shaking so badly. It was clear by now that Laures was scared of touches. But why was he?

_'I want to know who did what to the child that he can be so afraid.' _Snape thought furiously.

He brought Laures back to his bed and called for the house elve to bring him the broth. The haven haired boy was still crying silently and his eyes were puffy and red. He tried to hide his face in the pillow, but it didn't work. Snape sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Laures!" he said quietly. The boy gave no indication that he had heard him. Snape said his name again, this time a bit louder. The small boy seemed to have heard him, because he curled even tighter now, but didn't respond. The potions master sighed in exasperation. How was he to help the boy when he didn't talk to him? He didn't know, but he did know that the boy would starve if he didn't eat something soon. He tried once again to gain the attention of Laures, but to no avail.

_'You don't want it the normal way, then I have to do it the hard way. I won't let you die! My work patching you up will not be made in vain. Got that?' _he swore silently. The professor cast a light calming spell on him and helt his face in a firm grip. Then he started feeding him with a spoon. He wouldn't eat at first by simply not swallowing, but Snape quickly got around that. He pinched Laures' nose and waited till he had to swallow in order to resume breathing. After he had fed him half of the bowl he stopped. The boy had stopped crying, too.

Snape thought Laures was awake even if he had no evidence as he was lying motinless. He knew he had to talk to Laures about magic, but he couldn't brace himself to do so now. The child looked so small and frail in the huge bed.

"Sleep for now, child!" he murmured, tucking him in properly. He stood up, vanished the dishes and went.

Early in the evening the wards he had cast on Laures room were going off.

_'So, he is awake.' _Snape thought and got up from where he had been reading. He made his way to Laures' room. When he was nearly there, about one corridor from it, he saw him walking towards him. He had one of his arms gliding over the wall, balancing with his other arm, as if he couldn't see. Then he seemed to have heard Snape's footsteps, because he halted, and his free arm fell to his side.

"Who is there?" he asked anxiously.

That was definitely odd. What was wrong with the boy! He went to him, but Laures stepped back.

"Who are you?" he asked again, fearfully.

"I am Mr Snape!" he aswered, trying to reassure the boy. Then he thought he had seen the boy sighing. Whether it was in relief or in dejection, he didn't know. Snape scrutinized him thoroughly. He was standing with slumped shoulders and his head was lowered slightly, but he could see his hollow eyes, nevertheless. They were expressionless and dull. He was beyond shocked, how could he have not noticed? He didn't know how he should treat him now. Like he had before? He remembered that Laures had said in the beginning that he couldn't read. Now he knew why. However, he was ripped from his musings when he heard the child calling him timidly.

"Er..Sir? What-?" He was interrupted by Snape.

"We have to talk. Now!" he said tersely and walked off to his office, though paying attention whether Laures was following.

In his office he grabbed the boy's arm and guided him to a squashy armchair. Then Snape sat down behind his desk.

"I won't ask you now why you are blind, Laures. But you should have told me. The house is full of secret mechanisms that can go off if you touch them." He said warningly.

"Yes, Sir!" He replied glumly.

_'Great. Now he knows, though I wanted it to keep secret. I didn't want him to notice, since everthing could have been normal between us, at least for a while. I know that he would notice sooner or later, but I would really have prefered later. I can handle to be blind, I have the whole last month. So why does he have to show false consideration for me? I don't want to be pitied. I hate that. I am strong and won't break because of such a little thing.' _He thought fiercely, though a few tears escaped his eyes and he wiped them away furiously.

"Laures?" Snape inquired.

"Yes, Sir?" he answered reluctantly.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked. Harry thought he had felt the professor hesitating, before he had asked. But that was of course nonsense. Though a small voice in his mind said otherwise, but he ignored it.

"What? Give it to me, so I can feel it, please!" he replied, not sure what Snape wanted from him. He would never admit it, but he was scared that he couldn't see his least favourite professor. Harry liked to see his opponents to watch them closely for a possible attack and he cetainly didn't trust Snape not to do so.

After he had reached out his hand, he had to wait quite a while before a wooden stick was placed in it. He knew immediately what it was and was aware that it had to be Snape's.

_'No wonder, he hesitated so long before he gave it to me. He couldn't be sure that I wouldn't attack him with it, if I knew what it is, which I obviously do. Is that going to be a proof of his sincerity and trust in me?' _Harry really didn't know and wasn't sure he wanted to know. So he replied honestly.

"A wand." He could mentally see the alarm bells going off in Snape's head and suddenly had to fight the urge to grin.

"Yes, you are right. I assume you are a wizard, then?" Snape ascertained warily.

"Yes, I am." Harry confirmed quietly.

"So you know how to cast spells. Do you have a wand?" he said factually.

Harry deliberated what he should tell him and decided for now that Snape didn't have to know that Harry was a sixth year Hogwarts student.

"Yes and no!" Harry answered to the two questions.

"What do you mean by that?" Obviously not understanding how Harry had meant what he said.

"That can do magic, but I have no wand. I trained myself after I found out." He provided voluntarily.

"So you are able to do wandless magic?" Snape asked incredulously.

"If that is what it is called like then yes." Harry chose to play innocent further on and he held the wand out so that Snape could take it back.

"Do you care to show me? And do you know of Hogwarts?" the professor asked, light curiosity swinging in his voice.

"Why do you want to know all that?" Harry asked, suddenly suspicious.

"I'm interested in wandless magic, because it's very rare and difficult to perform. And Hogwarts is where I teach, so I will have to go back there in a week and a half. If you know Hogwarts, I could take you with me, if not, maybe, too, but you can't stay here. That's for sure and as you have nowhere to go, maybe..." he trailed off uncertainly.

'What's that! Snape does not know how to say something... wonders never cease.' Harry thought amused, but he was appreciating that Snape was so.. nice to him.

"I can do only a little bit and I've heard of Hogwarts vaguely. What is it exactly?"

_'Okay, I hope I didn't play too ignorant.'_

"Hogwarts is a wizarding school. Did you get a letter during this holidays or the last?" he explained.

_'No, I didn't. I got it five years ago.'_ He thought sarcastically, but answered plaintively.

"How am I supposed to know whether I got a letter when I can't see? Besides, I lived in wilderness the last three weeks, because I ran away." He answered indignantly, wrapping his arms around his knees and setting his chin upon them.

"The letter would have been delivered by owl. So you don't need an address. Did you hear no owl?"

"How do I know now! I didn't pay attention to such trivialities then." He grumbled angry.

"Doesn't matter anyway, really. We can see to that later. You will go to Hogwarts one way or the other. Your magic has to be trained professionally, because you can't run around like this. Now, show me what you can do." Snape requested.

Harry thought a while, about what he should do, but came up with nothing. He hadn't done wandless magic since the start of the holidays and didn't know whether he could still do what he had been able to do at the end of term. Finally, he decided to do a simple hovering charm and 'accio'.

He lifted one arm and pointed roughly to where Snape's voice came from and where he assumed was the desk. He simply imagined what he wanted to be done and let his magic flow there. His magic searched for the item and engulfed it with magic when it was found. Then it was brought to Harry's hand. He caught the item which was a quill. He uncurled his hand, palm up, and let the quill hover above it. He lowered it again and let the magic retreat. He had subconsciously closed his eyes and opened them now.

It made no difference in view, but in feeling.

"I'm surprised. Not many children at your age are able to do that. You seem to have great magical potential." Snapes said approvingly.

"Thank you, Sir!" Harry said quietly, hiding his amazement that the professor said something friendly to him.

"Come on, Laures! We'll have dinner now." Snape said and Harry heard him standing up. He stood up, too, and walked cautiously to him. His body had started hurting again. The salve or potion that Snape had certainly applied was loosing its effect. He reached out and grabbed by chance the soft material of what he guessed was a robe.

"Why...?" the potions master asked confused.

"It is easier to follow you, Sir!" Harry mumbled and blushed lightly. He lowered his head mortified. He didn't want to rely on anybody, but in this unknown house he didn't want to get lost again. On the way to his office Harry nearly had walked along wrong passages a few times, and only in the last minute realized he was wrong.

"If you think so." he replied and the two walked to the dinner room which had already been dished by the house elves.

TBC


	6. the bath

**Chapter Six: The Bath**

Snape had brought Laures back to his room.

_'He is not making any sense. He won't let anyone touch him, but he just grabs my arm and everything remains fine. And he seems to be in pain again, but why doesn't he say anything?'_

He let Laures sit down on the bed and handed him his pyjamas.

"Stay where you are, I'll be right back." He ordered.

"Uh.. Sir?" he barely heard him speaking.

"What?" he snapped harshly, maybe a bit too harsh. He saw Laures' eyes watering dangerously.

"Could.. could I take a shower maybe?" he asked whispering.

"I'll see. Let me get the salve for your wounds first, okay?" he replied more friendly, noticing that he had frightened the small boy.

"Of course! Sorry, Sir."

"You don't have to appologise." He admonished him lightly.

Snape went to his lab and took a few potions and salves he probably needed. Then he came back. He found Laures still sitting in exactly the same position when he had left him. He was staring into space, a pensive expression on his face and seemed as if he was deep in thought. Snape put the vials on the nightstand and cleared his throat to make himself noticeable. Laures jumped and jerked his head in Snape's direction. A terrified expression on his face now.

"It's okay, Laures. It's me, Snape!" He said in a deep soothing voice. Laures relaxed visibly as he realized who was standing in front of him.

"Please, take off your shirt."

"Why?" he asked, his voice was quivering and he went in a defensive demeanor. Drawing his knees to his chest and hugging his legs. The potions master was taken aback by such a self-protective attitude. And he had merely asked him to take off his shirt. Concerned he crouched in front of Laures and said quietly and friendly: "Laures, I only want to heal your injuries. But I can't do that when you wear your shirt."

"Really?" he asked timidly.

"Yes. Besides, you wanted to shower, right? Why don't you do that first and I will apply the salve later?" Snape hated himself for talking like an idiot to the child, but he knew that he wouldn't get anywhere if he didn't. Laures nodded hesitantly and stood up. Snape straightened again, as well, and led Laures into the adjoining bathroom.

After taking off the bandages, he asked:

"Are you still in pain?"

Laures seemed reluctant, not knowing what to answer.

"Laures, I want an honest reply!" Snape warned.

Harry gulped visibly, before he nodded.

"It's alright. I won't harm you!" he reassured the shaky boy, even letting his concern show on his face, though the boy wouldn't see it.

"Here, drink this!" he added and handed Laures a vial who downed it quickly. Snape had mixed the pain-relieving potion with a calming draught and as the potion took affect Laures stopped shaking so much, relaxing a bit.

"Laures? You'll need to remove your clothes. There is a towel on your left with which you can wrap yourself. If you wish I will turn my eyes and wait until you are ready." He told Laures in a soft voice. Then he walked over to the taps of the tub and turned them on. He thought if Laures was going to be washed then he could bath properly. While he was waiting for the tub to fill, he looked out of the small window. It was almost completely dark already and a few stars were illuminating the sky.

"I'm done!" Laures announced quietly. He stood, nervously shifting on his feet, the towel wrapped tightly around himself. He had his head lowered and he would have looked at his feet, if he could see. Snape sighed inaudibly. The boy was a nervous wreck. Anyone could see that and, to tell the truth, it frightened him somehow. He really hoped the boy would recover from whatever was done to him and be a happy child again. He would never be as carefree as other children any more, but he could have at least a resemblance to it.

"That's good, but you'll have to wait a little longer, because the tub isn't filled yet." Snape replied and glanced over to the boy. He should have attended to the injuries sooner again, he berated himself. Laures' body was still in various shades of purple, blue and yellow, even though most of his cuts had healed. He turned the water off and called Laures. The boy started and panicked slightly, but he was still under the influence of the potion and calmed quickly again. He walked over to Snape and stopped nervously a few feet in front of him.

"Kneel down, please."

Laures did, albeit shaking, as he was told, even though he looked as though he was fighting an inner battle beforehand.

Telling Laures he would grab his fingers, he led the boy's hands to the rim.

"I think you'll be able to climb in now. The water isn't very deep. I think it'll reach your chest."

He informed the teenage boy who nodded stiffly, gripping the margin fiercely. After slipping into the hot water, he still didn't let go of it. Snape gently pried the boy's finger off the margin and took them in his his hands, caressing them soothingly.

"What is it, child?" he inquired.

"What if I sink under the surface, when I slip for instane? I can't swim." mumbled Laures, averting his face and blushing in embarrassment, while gripping Snape's hand even harder.

"I don't mind. Do you want me to teach you how to swim?" he asked amiably.

_'Now, where did_ that _come from?'_

Snape wondered. Did he start to like the small lad? Surely not, or did he? He didn't want to know and discarded the thought.

"You'd do that?" Laures asked astounded, raising his head disbelievingly.

"Yes, I would!" Snape stated firmly and the child breathed an barely audible "wow". A little louder he said, though he had lowered his head again: "Thank you, sir!"

Snape didn't know how to respond to that and skipped past an answer, starting his lecture. After Laures' had overcome his fear to let go of him, he managed pretty well, considering that he remembered his cousin having swimming lessons once, where he had to watch. He swam from him to the margin on the opposite side and vice versa. Snape congratulated him and told him to foam his hair and soap his body after Laures had climbed onto the margin. He handed him the necessary shampoos and the black haired boy complied without a murmur.

Stepping out of the tub, Snape wrapped Laures carefully in a large towel, trying as best as he could not to touch him with his hands and body. Laures cringed nonetheless when he came into contact with the towel and a light brush of Snape's fingers and was shivering from both the cold and fear. It seemed like a reflex to do that. Laures could only stand touching a person if _he_ was the one doing it. The tub had been some weird sort of protection from the other person as well, because they had such a great difference in altitude.

Though Snape could be a heartless bastard at times, it was obvious that Larues needed some warmth, and the only thing holding Snape back from doing something very un-Snape-like, like taking Laures in his arms and comforting him, was his concern that the child might panic and pull away.

In the end, his good side won. He gently wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders and pulled him close. The small child stiffened instantly and whimpered lightly, but Snape didn't let go. He rubbed his back soothingly and tried to calm him with whispered nothings. Laurs didn't panic again, but he didn't relax either. However, Snape was now determined to go on with this as long as he needed to get Laures to relax.

Eventually, Laures' posture slackened a little and he leaned forward, resting his head against Snape's chest.

A flicker of warmth kindled itself inside Snape, awakening long forgotten feelings, though he remained calm and composed outwardly so he wouldn't scare the child. But he smiled, and that in itself would have been enough to frighten any Hogwarts student or professor.

Loathe as Snape was to spoil the moment, they couldn't stay this way all night, so he bent down slightly and lifted Laures in his arms. The long haired boy was almost asleep already, and didn't protest. Snape carried him to the large four poster bad and layed him down. Laures whined a bit at the loss of warmth and Snape's heart contracted.

_'The child is going to make me go soft!'_

Snape thought, surprised by this discovery. He was even more surprised when he wasn't really miserable about this.

He removed the towel from Laures who whimpered at the cold. His injuries looked like they were healing quite nicely. His salve was obviously working. He got out the the healing salve and dabbed the injuries and scars that were still visible with it. There weren't many left, but he knew that quite a lot of these scars wouldn't fade with the salve. It was a pity that such a young child had to bear so many scars, even though he couldn't see them anymore. He even had scars in his face that would stay. One faint white line ran across his left cheek, one on his forehead that was shaped quite oddly. It was a diagonal line with two vertical lines that didn't touch each other, but ended on the diagonal one.

The whole thing wasn't very large, just covering a quarter on the right of his forehead. His long black hair was shiny and silky, framing his pale face and giving it an almost unearthly quality.

He was startled that for the second time this day he had felt something akin to affection and admiration towards a mere child. What was wrong with him? It started to worry him greatly. Normally, he knew exactly what he felt, because it was what he wanted to feel. These strange feelings couldn't be good if he couldn't name them, could they?

_'Is there a potion to stop these odd feelings?' _

Shaking his head he dismissed it. It had been a very long and trying time for both of them. Of course he was behaving a little strangely.

Snape dressed Laures in the pyjama he had had on before and tucked him in. He planted a soft, feathery kiss on his forehead and left to go to bed himself, leaving quickly before he did any other odd things. He didn't know what had gotten into him.

* * *

Breakfast was uneventful the next morning. A house elf had appeared – in that odd way that house elves just seem to – and guided Laures to the dining room. They ate in relative silence, just the occationally clatter of the dishes was to be heard.

Laures was sitting nervously on the edge of his chair, sipping his warm broth from a spoon. He was very nervous, because a silent Snape was never a good sign. Also he felt completely awkward after what happened the day before and he wasn't sure what to expect from him especially when he couldn't see what mood he was in. He had behaved so un-Snape-ish that it was scary.

His mind wandered to what had happened yesterday evening. That Snape would allow him to take a bath and not just a shower was astounding enough, but that he even taught him the basics of swimming? That was simply nutters. Snape had always hated him, so why was he so nice? What happened to the Snape he had known for so long? If last night wasn't just an odd dream, Snape had _hugged_ him. Actually _hugged _him. Snape had reached for him, and Harry thought he was going to hit him, or maybe try and drown him in the tub now that he'd made Harry feel like he could trust him. That sounded like something Snape would do. The last thing he'd expected Snape to do was to give him a…_hug!_ Hugs and Snape just didn't go together, but it had felt…nice. It had felt…_good._

_'It's quite an odd feeling that he is so nice to me, but it's not bad. I hope I won't get Snape mad at me that he gets a reason to throw me out.'_

"How do you feel this morning?" Snape asked him with the same amount of feeling he'd use to ask how the weather is.

"I'm fine, Sir!" he replied politely, but void of feelings, too. He sighed mentally. He had thought that ysterday had changed something between them, but obviously it hadn't. Snape was as cold-hearted as ever and he was just a burden, a nuisance who had to be taken care of. He didn't understand why the professor had picked him up in the first place if he didn't like children.

And he didn't understand why he felt so dejected at the thought that Snape would just take care of him because he had to and not because he cared about him.

"What's wrong, child?" Snape asked, sounding concerned again.

"Uh... nothing." He replied, shaking his head. He must have made a sad face, if Snape was asking him what was wrong. He was acting so different than Harry knew him and he couldn't get used to Snape being so…nice.. It was a little unsettling.

"What do you want to do today?" he inquired.

Harry shrugged. What was there possibly to do for him? He couldn't read, because he was blind, so he couldn't do his homework. His books weren't here anyway, he realized. He wondered what might have happened to them. Did the Dursleys leave them where they'd been in the cupboard under the stairs? Or had they burned his school things? He wasn't sure whether he wanted to know.

"You are lucky that I have free time so I don't really have to do anything except brew potions for my own purposes!" Snape told him.

Harry lifted his head hopefully. What did he mean by that?

"You can occupy youself with something you still can do, whatever that is. I'll be able to help you while I'm brewing." Snape proposed in a somewhat friendly tone, though it had a strange undertone.

Harry nodded and didn't ask further, not wanting to infuriate his professor with nosy questions. He knew from his lessons at Hogwarts that it wasn't healthy to ask too many questions at once. Snape seemed to be in a good mood this morning, so he didn't want to spoil it.

He sat awkwardly in his chair, not knowing what to say or do now. Ne was nervous, because Snape was so different from school and now he was silent as well. He really wished he could watch him now, to see why he was so quiet. Was he peeved? Or is this silent nature his real self? What, if he didn't know what to say, too? Harry was utterly confused, didn't know what to think or feel. He was overwhelmed by so many different feelings and bemusing sensations invading him from around. He had never known that he was so dependant on his eyes to help sorting things out or taking in the sensations on a different way.

Clumsily resuming laddling his now cold soup, he thought about what he could do at all without his eyes. Ceratinly, there wasn't much, but maybe he could do _something_. There had to be something. He didn't want to sit around being bored, or to get on his professors' nerves when he'd been so kind to take him in.

Suddenly he heard someone or something hissing lightly. As far as he knew there was no one with them and a snake he would have understood, so that only left Snape.

"Erh.. Sir?" he asked hesitantly, but Snape didn't answer. Apologetic he called him again. At first there was no response either, but then Snape let out a low grunt. Worried, he asked him if he was alright, but Snape didn't reply directly.

"Binka!" he called, panting slightly. Harry frowned. What was wrong with his professor? Then there was a loud crack somewhere to the left and a high pitched voice inquiered.

"What can Binka do for you, master?"

"Go and get Socrates, then take him and Laures outside. Don't let Laures roam around unsupervised! I must leave!" Snape instructed, pushing his chair back with a scrape and hurrying out of the dining room.

After a brief moment's confusion, Harry remembered that his professor had acted much the same way when he, Professor Snape, Professor McGonagal and Professor Dumbledore had gathered in the Headmaster's office, and he had felt the Dark Lord's call through his Mark.

He grew even more worried. He had seen in his visions what Voldemort would do to his servants. Snape had been there sometimes, too, and he always left heavily injured, because Snape wouldn't provide Voldemort with the infromation he seeked.

What did Snape do when he was hurt? Did his house elves provide for him? Or was there somebody else in this house? He remembered the people he had run into in the stables on his second, had it been his second, day here. What was with them? What would they do?

He was pulled from his musing by the house elf.

"Laures Sir."

"What?" he replied rather scared. He was frightened by the thought of being alone for quite a while. He wanted someone to be here with him.

"You are to follow me, Laures Sir!" the house elf squeaked and bowed. Not feeling hungry anymore, he got up and followed the elf, feeling insecure, because he'd never walked without something to hold onto.

"Uhm, Binka?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Laures Sir?" the house elf squealed happily.

"Can I have some robes or something else to wear?"

He might not have been able to look at his own appearance anymore, but he just couldn't bring himself to walk around the house in pyjamas. That much dignity was still left in him, thank you very much.

"Please, follow me!" the house elf said, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him along.

**TBC**


	7. injured Snape

**Chapter Seven: Injured Snape**

Binka pulled out some of Snape's old clothes for Harry. The potions master had outgrown the simple trousers and pullovers years ago, but they were still too big for the young boy, but Harry didn't care. He threw the clothes on and followed the house elf outside.

He followed the house elf away from the gravelly path of the courtyard to the soft grass of the lawn next to the house.

The sun was shining, he could feel it on his face and it was not too hot and not too cold. A great day to be outdoors, then.

The house elf led Harry to the blanket she had spread on the lawn and he sat down on it. He took a few deep breaths of fresh air and felt really at peace for the first time since the holidays started. The deliciously peaceful silence was only broken by the occacional ruffle of the trees or the chirping of birds nearby. The air smelled strongly after freshly mown grass and it calmed him somewhat. Though, he didn't stop worrying about Snape entirely. He was wondering what Voldemort could want from him during the holidays (he is not at school so he can't get any inormation), in the middle of the morning, nonetheless.

The house elf came back with a few sandwiches and Socrates, the cat, which meowed protestingly. It fled into his arms the moment Binka let go of it. Putting the cat into a more comfortable position in his lap Harry started stroking the fur and started on Binka's sandwiches. Binka had left to get something to drink.

The sound of footsteps caught Harry's ears. It was very faint, as if the person were trying to sneak along, but it sounded like it was coming from behind him.

He tensed in anticipation, drawing his knees up and hugging the cat tightly to him.

_'Who is that? Oh god, he'll see me. What am I'm going to do? I wish Snape could be here now! He'd protect me from the person that's coming here. Who would visit Snape except for his Death Eater fellows, anyway? I bet I'm going to be carted off to Voldemort the second that person sees me!'_

He strained his ears on the footsteps in order to discover whether the person was passing him or coming to him. He didn't know what to make of it. The footfalls grew steadily louder and their uneven rhythm told Harry that the person was either limping, or one of his legs was longer than the other. The person was panting which was interrupted by coughing from time to time.

What if this was somebody that wanted to harm him?

"Laures..." a low voice rasped, sounding both surprised and relieved. Terrified the small boy's head snapped up. He hadn't realised he was so near. He knew he was shaking in fear again, but he couldn't stop himself.

Something dropped heavily beside him and groaned. Frightened Harry scuttled backwards from the person.

"No. Stay, please!" the person murmured feebly. What was going on?

"Who are you?" Harry asked, his voice quivering.

"Snape..." the voice whispered which was followed by a pained gasp.

"Snape..." he said again.

Harry took a few deep calming breaths to relax and think properly. There was no reason to panic if that was actually Snape. Harry asked if the person _was_ Snape, but he got no response. Scared of what might have happened to him, he called his name again. Still no response. He clumsily got to his hands and knees and crawled over to the man. His breathing was ragged and he moaned every once in a while.

Harry found Snape's shoulders and shook him lightly. Anxiously he waited, but the man just groaned in pain, trembling heavily and shaking.

_'If I just could see now... then I'd know what's wrong with him!'_ Harry thought desperately.

He unconsciously sent out his magic and felt that he was severly injured. Thinking back, he remembered that Snape had been away to Voldemort.

Harry had seen Voldemort torturing his servants more than often during his visions and Snape had always been one of his favourite victims. To the boy, it seemed like a wonder that Snape could still be counted as sane for all the Cruciatus' he had been cursed with, yet so he was. Harry had had experienced a slightly mellow form of all of the Cruciatus curses flung at Voldemort's victims during his visions through the link in his scar.

Regardless of whatever form of punishment he'd endured under Voldemort's hands, he'd always seen Snape get up and walk back to his place in the circle of death eaters. A little stiffly, and his face seemed to be set into a permanent grimace, but he always got up. He had never seen him like this, unable to stand and shaking like a leaf.

Harry had discovered some time ago that he was able to heal other people from minor injuries, yet he had never learned how to heal himself. He wished he had. It woud certainly have been useful after one of his visions.

He contemplated trying to heal Snape with magic, but it was a difficult decision. His professor was really hurt, but he didn't trust his wandless magic with other people, especially without sight.

Harry was torn from his revery by a suffering groan. He gathered what energy he could muster within him and took a deep breath. Carefully he turned Snape on his back and fumbled with the buttons of his clothes. As he ran his hands over the robe, it didn't escape his notice that the fabric was torn and ripped in several places. Snape would never be so untidy. This was Voldemort's doing. He felt his anger rise as he freed the man from his robe and shirt. Gently hands prodded and poked Snape, because Harry needed to know where he was hurt to be able to heal him.

Running his hands lightly across Snape's chest, he could feel a number of welts that had already risen. Harry didn't have to be able to see them to be able to know that they'd already be a severe shade of blue and purple.

He moved to run his hands over his arms and stopped suddenly when he ran his hand over a patch of sticky, liquid.

Frowning, he lifted two fingers, already coated in the liquid, to nis nose and sniffed. It smelled bitter and metallic. Blood. He had spilt enough of it himself to be sure.

Harry moved his hand along the wound. It was a single long thin line running from his shoulder to his ellbow, and the blood was spilling freely from it.

Harry placed both hands over the wound and let his magic flow through his hands like he did when he cast a spell or charm wandlessly, molding the magic so it would heal and close the wound. He carefully healed every other wound he could find on the man in the same way.

Suddenly Snape groaned and subsequently started coughing. When he moved to sit up, Harry gently pushed him down again.

"Don't move, Sir. You're still hurt!"

"I am aware of that!" the man replied weakly and scathingly.

"So... sorry, Sir!" Harry apologized and backed away slightly. There was only one man who had such an intimidating and dominating voice, even if it was rather weak at the moment. Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry. There could be no mistake! And his current state could only mean the Meeting with Voldemort hadn't proceeded as planned, even though Harry hadn't felt his scar at all.

"Don't stare into space, but help me to get inside!" Snape snarled through gritted teeth. Harry winced at the harsh tone. Snape's nice side had been refreshing. It'd been nice, even though it had been weird, but now Harry could see the irritable Potions Master had come to the fore again. A scared feeling crept over him that everything would go back to where Snape had hated Harry.

But maybe, Harry thought, he was just so snappish, because he was in pain. He would wait and see what happened, he resolved.

With a little help from Harry Snape managed to stand up, complaining that Harry had partially undressed him. He gathered the strewn clothes and the blanket, groaning every time he bent down to pick something up, and dumped them in the boy's arms.

Harry timidly stayed where he was. When Snape had handed Harry the first cloth, he had jumped, but he realized fast what Snape was doing. Then he was tensely waiting for the shouting that was surely about to come, but Snape was silent.

Together they walked back to the manor, Snape supporting himself on Harry's shoulder.

Back in the mansion, Snape led Harry to his chambers and collapsed onto his bed. Harry sat down next to him on the edge of it. He had healed the professor as best as he could, but some of his injuries were beyond his expertise.He was nervous and didn't know what to do.

"Is there anything I can get you? Anything that might help, Sir?" he asked uncertainly. Harry didn't know why he'd asked. He was blind, so what could he do for him?

Drawing up his knees he wrapped his arms around them and rested his chin on his arms. He felt so helpless, though he really wanted to make Snape better. He had been kind to take him in, which he hadn't been forced to. He could have left him there in the fields. Harry felt obliged to return the service, though he didn't know what he could do forhim.

When Snape hoarsely called for his house elf, the long haired boy jumped and nearly fell off the bed.

The elf popped into the room almost instantly.

"Bring me the usual selection, Minna!"

"Of course, Master Snape Sir! Right away, Master Snape Sir!" the elf squealed utterly delighted that she could be of help and she bowed so deeply that her nose almost touched the thick rug. Then she disapparated with a loud crack.

"What selection? You must mean your potions, right? Which ones did you ask for?" Harry inquired curiously, albeit timidly.

For a few minutes there was silence and Harry could feel Snape staring at him.

"I suppose that telling you is as good a way to pass the time as any." Snape drawled. "I requested two vials of a potion to help the aftereffects of crucio, a pain-relieving draught and a salve for the wounds." He explained tiredly.

"What did Voldemort do to you?" Harry asked concerned.

"The usual round of tortue, because I did not give him the answers he wanted to hear. He... wait a second! I did not tell you that I was going to meet the dark Lord this morning. How do you know about him and myself?"

"So you _were_ with him." Harry mused quietly. He realized that this was going to betray him and shifted nervously. Though he knew he had to answer the question, because Snape would never let go before he got an answer.

"You didn't tell me!" he whispered apprehensively. As soon as the words had slipped out of his mouth he regretted saying them. Considering he was desperately trying to hide his identity from Snape, telling the truth was the most damaging thing he could have done. Snape wasn't stupid, and if he wasn't careful, he would discover Harry's secret. But he couldn't help it. He was used to telling the truth as is had been decidedly better for his health. Uncle Vernon had always forced the truth out of him, whether he had lied at the beginning to save his skin or not. He had learned over the years that telling the truth from the beginning didn't soften the beating for what "he" had done, but he avoided the beating to get him to confess. However, to confess meant he had to take the blame for everything gone wrong. He had always been the one to blame so uncle Vernon could vent his anger on someone.

"I thought as much! So, pray tell me, how did you know?" Snape growled, however, the curiosity hung lightly in his voice and softened his anger.

Harry had always been perceptive of other people's moods and noticed this. The knot in his heart loosened slightly and he sighed in relief. Snape didn't seem to be in the mood to start yelling or striking him this instant.

Minna popped back in and gave the professor the dearly needed potions. Snape's breath was erratic when he sat up to drink. Harry could almost feel his eyes boring holes into him, while he took the potions, never letting him out of his sight. Harry wisely stayed silent until he heard the vials being slammed on a table and the cover rustled.

"I've heard of him and the Death Eaters before!" Harry admited quietly.

"How can you know about something like that when you never really heard of Hogwarts?" Snape's voice had gone deadly quiet and he hissed with narrowed eyes.

"You have been lying to me. I do not appreciate being lied to. I think it's time you started telling the truth – or stick to _one _story if you have so much to hide from me!"

"I'm sorry, Sir!"

"Explain," He demanded, irritated. "Laures!" he added after a short pause, stressing his chosen name with a sneer.

"I think it's better for both of us, if you didn't know who I am!" Harry stammered, backing away to the other end of the bed. He was sure there would be hell to pay now.

"Believe me, it will be better for you if you tell me the truth. Otherwise you will leave me no option but to force it out of you. One way or the other, I will discover what you are hiding from me." Snape threatened snidely.

_'I knew it! It was just pure luck that he'd never had the chance to beat me up in school. He'll catch up on that now, I'm sure!'_

"N-no! You can't!" he pleaded, scooting further away from him. He sat, his back pressed against the board of the end for the feet, cowering from his professor. Snape seemed to be popped up with pillows, half-lying and facing the young boy.

"I can make you tell me in more than thirty ways, you know. Shall we do this the easy way, or the hard way? I'm sure you won't like it my way!" Snape menaced maliciously.

"You really won't want to know! Please, Sir, let it go!" Harry whined, his voice thick with unshed tears of fear.

"You can leave it to me to decide what I want to know or not!" Snape growled, leaning forward.

"Fine. I'll tell you!" Harry cried. He took a deep breath and lifted his head.

"I'm Harry Potter!"

He was shaking again, when he heard a sharp inhale of air. Shutting his eyes he raised his arms in a protective gesture and inwardly prepared for what was about to come.

"Many people claim to be Harry Potter, though I cannot for the life of me understand why." Snape spat after a while. Harry didn't dare looking up, but he whispered.

"First you want to know the truth and when I tell you, you don't believe me. I am Harry Potter." Harry insisted. "Didn't you see that bloody famous scar on my forehead?"

Snape seemed to be thinking, because there was no sound for a while.

"Yes, there is indeed, though its rather unnoticable among the other scars. I think I will believe you." There was another pause, then Snape sneered. "You've always been a bad liar, Potter! Now, get out. I'll think about what I'll do with you later."

"Please, don't tell anyone! Please!" he begged desperately.

"We'll see about that! Get out, NOW!" he barked, panting. He was about to whip out his wand and hex him. The prat had nothing better to do than get on his nerves. He still didn't know why he was acting so strangely. He stared angrily and confusedly at the cowering child. He already felt a headache coming, and just wanted to be left alone so he could think everything through.

Harry leapt off the bed and raced out of the door and down the following corridor, unconsciously sending out his magic to sense his sourroundings, so he wouldn't run into a wall.

He didn't know where he ran, but he didn't care either. He just kept on running and turning the bends until he had exhausted himself. After tripping over his own feet, he stumbled and fell to the floor where he remained, sobbing uncontrollably.

* * *

Snape lay on the bed, unmoving. He felt odly betrayed by the young boy, but he didn't know why. 

That brat, Potter, _here_, in _his house_! He would have laughed at the absurdity of the idea if he had not just thrown the boy out of his own chambers.

He went through the arrival of Potter at his home and what had followed, when he suddenly remembered that he'd checked 'Laures' for any signs that might indicate he had Potter lying in front of him, because he had thought he knew the person and couldn't place it, but except from the reddish green eyes there was no resemblance. His famous scar that had always been blatantly in view had been nowhere to be seen.

But then again the boy might _not _have been Potter. He might have lied. He might have been just another brat who had assumed the name so he could share in the fame and attention that followed the name. If he was just another child from the bordering village he would surely have a lot of scars in the face, so that's no indication for the truth.

Potter looked quite different from this child in other points as well. The only thing that was alike was their hair colour. Potter had had short unruly hair whereas Laures' hair reached down till the middle of his back. He thought that Potter was quite a bit taller than Laures, as well.

However, the fact that was most important was that Potter may have been half-blind without his classes, but with them he could see perfectly normal and Laures was completely blind.

When Laures had told him that he said he was actually Harry Potter, though, he had felt inclined to believe him. He had sounded sincere when he had spoken and Snape felt a surge of emotion rush through him. He wanted to disbelieve Laures, but after what he had witnessed he could not. He had grown fond of the small lad. He didn't want him to be the boy he despised. How was he to behave now? Should he hate the shy and probaly abused boy just because of his name and his behaviour at school? How can one person be so different, anyway?

Nobody could change so drastically in such a short time, could he? It was hard to imagine his Laures and Harry Potter as the same person. Their behavior was also very dissimilar.

_'Maybe it has something to do with what happened before I found him. Didn't he say, he ran away from his relatives? The Potter boy is worshipped at home. What would make him run away? Especially, since he knew Voldemort would go looking for him. The undeserving prat. He has no clue how to survive in wild life. Then there is the question why he is blind and how he got so far away from Privet Drive. Or why he'd been in such a bad shape when I found him. Laures has been severly injured and in an imperative need of a shower. Why would Potter be in such a state?'_

He resolved he would have to ask these questions later. Now all he wanted was to go to sleep.

Feeling the effects of the potions start to work their magic on his bruised and beaten body, he settled himself under the covers and fell into an exhausted sleep.

It was early evening when he awoke. Yawning and stretching he sat up und climbed out of the bed, squinting his eyes against the glaring sunlight that streamed through his window. He groggily stood up and noticed that he needed to shower and change his robes, which were wrinkled and creased from sleeping in them. Something was nagging at his thoughts, but he couldn't pinpoint it.

Dressed in fresh robes, he looked around in his room. A quick glance at the clock on his nightstand told him that it was already half past five in the afternoon, so he called one of his house elves and told him to make dinner.

His gaze shifted to the nightstand again. However, the clock wasn't what caught his attention on it this time. It was the empty vials that lay on it. When the memories rushed back and reality hit him, he sat down heavily on his bed. This morning he had been with the dark Lord and the boy he'd picked up had confessed to be that bloody boy-who-won't-die. What a bloody wonderful day! Just that damn headmaster is still missing for the day to be completely miserable!

So it was an extremely annoyed professor who walked down to the dining room. He sat down in his usual chair and only a minute later the food appeared on the table.

Just the sight of the delicious food began to cheer him up and he ate joyfully until his was interrupted by - how could it be anyone else - the appearance of the Headmaster's head in his fireplace, which was the only one with a floo connection.

Severus groaned and his mood sank instantly. That was just what he had needed. As if the day hadn't been bad enough already. He put down his cutlery and turned to face Professor Dumbledore.

"Albus, how very lovely to see you! What can I do for you this time?" Severus asked in a strained voice.

The headmaster looked gravely at him, the ever-present twinkle in his eyes gone. This made Severus nervous. It was never good when he lost that damned twinkle.

"First of all, why don't you tell me what Voldemort called you for?" Albus asked politely.

_'That man has the worst timing of anyone I know. And he always distracts you from the matter he came for. Why does he know about the meeting at all?'_ Severus thought, feeling more and more confused.

"It was nothing of importance. I had nothing to report to him and he was extremely displeased. That's it." Severus answered flatly.

_'And if you don't want to see me dead you should give me more things to tell him.'_ he added silently to himself.

"You have no news to report? You have heard nothing? Nothing about Harry for example? Or about an attack somewhere?" Albus questioned curiously.

"No, why do you ask? Has something happened that I hadn't been aware of?" Severus replied warily, turning a bit more in his chair.

"Well, to be blunt. Harry seems to have disappeared. It is as if he has simply vanished. My thought is that Voldemort had him kidnapped and tortures him!" Albus explained sadly.

_'Potter has what? Hang on a minute, does that mean that Laures really _is _Potter?'_

The child that lived in his house had claimed to be _the_ Harry Potter. Laures had told him that before he had found him, he had been living in the wilderness for about two weeks. He was surprised that no one had noticed that he wasn't with his aunt and uncle before now.

It was so ludicrous that he started laughing. It was a cold harsh laugh without feeling, but the mental picture was too ridiculous not to.

"May I ask what you find so funny that you are laughing like some madman? I understand that you and Harry are not fond of one another, but to laugh at his misfortune is rude, even for you, Severus!" Albus rebuked him sternly.

"I am completely sane, I'll have you know, Albus! I just find it funny how quick you are to notice that something is amiss." Severus remarkedonce he got himself under control again.

"What do you mean, Severus? What are you not telling me?" the headmaster looked suspiciously at him.

"Nothing. I have neither seen the prat nor know anything about his whereabouts. I have been here the whole time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have hings to do!" Severus said, resolutely turning back to his dinner.

"One more question, Severus!"

Severus sighed loudly and looked at the Headmaster, knowing that he couldn't deny Albus anything.

"Very well."

"How is your young charge?" he asked his twinkle firmly in his eyes again, because he knew that Snape wouldn't like to have a child running around in his house and messing up his potions. Severus sighed deeply. He had totally forgotten about him when he came down.

"How do I know how Laures is? He's upstairs in one of the guest rooms!" Severus grumbled, throwing his hands in the air.

_'There is that damn twinkle again. Sometimes I just want to punch him to wipe that glint from his eyes!'_ he thought viciously.

"If you have no more questions, I would like to finish my dinner. Good evening, headmaster!"

With one last look he picked up his fork again.

"Very well, my boy. Call me if you know something. Have a nice holiday!" the headmaster said cheerfully and his head vanished from the fire which changed its colour into the normal one again.

**TBC**

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A/N: any question that may have arisen, please ask them by email.  
anyway, thank you for your reviews! hug i love you all.

cyu as


	8. St Mungos

**Chapter Eight: St Mungo's**

Severus sighed again. He had totally forgotten to do anything with that child and it was the _headmaster_ who had to rivet his attention on him again!

Rather than telling the headmaster about Laures, he decided to find out the truth behind his appearance at the manor for himself first. He wanted to be the one to make the child talk to him. That led to the warranted question, where was the boy anyway? He remembered vaguely sending him out of his room after the child had told him what should be the truth. He wasn't sure, however, whether it _was _the truth he'd been told. Determined to clarify that now, he called for a house elf.

"Do you know where the child is? If not, find him and tell me!" he ordered, sending the elf a withering glare.

"Master Sir, the child Laures Sir is sleeping in the corridor on the second floor in the west wing." The elf squeaked fearfully, albeit eagerly, answering his master.

_'What's he doing there? How did he get there anyway?'_ Severus wondered, shaking his head. _'And why, for heaven's sake, haven't the elves brought him back to his assigned room if they know where he is? I think I have to pay them a visit sometime soon and have a talk with them.'_

He stood and strode quickly to the indicated location. He may hate the Potter boy, but he didn't wish him any harm. So he had to find him more or less happily and get him to eat something. He had eaten little enough since he had arrived here. He would never deprive a child of a bed or food. He was a bastard, but not cruel.

Laures was easy to find and when he arrived he saw that Socrates was with him again. The damn cat seemed to actually like the child. Laures was huddled in a fetal position, his long hair spread around him and fast asleep. He sighed deeply at the sorrowful picture. He knew that only he was to blame for this. He sighed once again and wanted to scoop the raven-haired child up in his arms, being careful not to wake him. When he first touched him, though, Laures flinched, but he did not wake. Severus carried Laures into his guest room and tucked him into his bed.

_'And again you didn't eat anything. Somehow I think you do this just so you don't have to eat, stupid child.'_

He thought and left. He came back a while later with a potion phial in his hand. He gently fed the boy the nutrient potion, before he went to his own bedchamber. He was confused. He didn't know how to behave around the child anymore. His outward appearance said it was Laures, the scared small boy in front of him, but then he remembered that the boy had said he was Potter who he hated because he was an insolent prat. He would definitely have to ask him tomorrow, he thought.

He was warm and surrounded by something soft. Sleepily, he blinked, but it stayed dark. Strange, he thought. He was definitely awake, he knew that. So why was it so dark that you couldn't see a thing? He tiredly rubbed his eyes. He knew he must have slept quite a while, but he felt as tired as if he hadn't slept one minute. Slowly he became more awake and remembered that the darkness wouldn't fade however he tried. He knew it was childish, but he still hoped every night that when he woke the next morning everything would be okay and he would be able to see again.

He sat up and stretched languidly. Hearing a loud crack behind him, he jumped. Calming his heartbeat with deep breaths, he turned to the noise.

"Who's there?" he asked, frightened.

"Me Lupo, Laures Sir." sqealed what obviously was a house elf.

"What do you want here?" he asked curiously.

"Master Sir sent Lupo to bring Laures Sir to dining room, Laures Sir!" the elf squeaked proudly.

"Okay, Lupo. I just have to get dressed first." Harry told the elf while climbing out of the large bed.

He donned the same clothes he'd worn the day before. In the bathroom he found, after he'd knocked over half of the things on the board, the hairbrush he'd been searching for. He gingerly brushed through his hair, which was utterly disheveled. When he was ready, his hair was shimmering lightly in the light, not that he could see that, though.

In the dining room, he was greeted with silence. He insecurely sat down in the chair the elf had led him to.

In the completely silent room the breathing of two people could be heard clearly. Harry nervously fidgeted in his chair until the person he was facing spoke icely.

"Care to explain yourself, Potter?" Startled, Harry cringed and pulled his legs up.

"I'm sorry, Sir." he whispered. "What shall I explain?" he asked nervously.

"You could always start with how you landed on my property so I had to collect you!" he sneered. "Or how you came to be blind."

After a few faltering sentences everything poured out of him. Harry told everything about how he had had to give his unlce the blowjob, the fight that had ensued and how his uncle wanted him to swallow the cleansing agent, which had spilled over his face instead. He told him about his unlce who had seen no use in Harry anymore and dumped him somewhere far away in wilderness, the way had had tried to survive until somebody of the order would finally notice something, but nobody came. Then how he had been wandering about and Snape with his horse had come along.

"And from there you know what happened." he finished.

"Do you want me to pity you for your miserable life now? I can assure you, your life isn't the only one that's wicked." Snape mocked.

"No, I don't want pity." Harry replied, ignoring what he'd heard, though it stung.

"Why did you never use magic? If I recall correctly you showed me you're capable of wand less magic." he asked coldly.

"I didn't want to get expelled from Hogwarts. I already violated the rules for underage magic twice. You very well know that, Sir!" Harry answered boldly. He was angry that Snape was so indifferent towards him now when he'd been almost nice before. He couldn't really understand why the professor hated him so much.

"You never cared for rules before, so why now? Besides, if the beatings were as bad as you say they were, getting expelled should have been the least of your worries, considering you could have died. You know very well that if your safety and life are in danger you may be permitted to use underage magic. No Wizengamot would punish you for using magic to save your life."

"You know that Fugde would do everything to get me expelled!" replied Harry sharply.

"Then why did you do magic here?"

"I was quite certain that you had wards around your manor so nobody could detect dark magic with you being a Death Eater and all." Harry revealed quietly.

"We will go to St Mungo's after you have eaten breakfast to check upon your eyes! Maybe they are not irreparable yet." Snape announced.

"Yes, Sir!" Harry agreed. Maybe hope wasn't really lost yet, he thought happily.

He finished his sandwich quickly and awkwardly waited in his chair for Snape to say something.

"We will travel by floo to Hogwarts, because it's the only floo connection from the manor. From Hgowarts we will walk to Hogsmeade and from there we'll floo to St Mugno's. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good! Now, come on. I'll go first!" he declared. Harry heard the scraping of a chair's legs and footsteps. Hurriedly he stood and made his way rather uncertainly to the potions master. He seemed to stand before the fireplace, though he couldn't feel any warmth of it.

"Give me your hand!" Snape demanded and Harry complied. Another hand took his. The hand was warm in contrary to his own and bigger than his, but smooth with almost velvety skin. Strange how you pay attention to minor externals once you are blind, he mused. His hand was formed into a cup and a pulver was poured in.

"I hope you know how to floo, so just say 'Hogwarts, Snape quarters'." He said, before he closed Harry's hand into a fist. Harry heard the fire flare up and Snape shouted 'Snape quarters'. Then he was gone. Harry stepped hesitantly into the fireplace and threw the powder down, shouting the direction as well.

The usual twisting started and he instantly began to feel nauseous. Stumbling he exited the fireplace and fell right into Snape's arms. Startled he queaked and broke away from him. He didn't keep his balance, though and tumbled in an ungraceful heap to the floor. He groaned and futilely fought the urge to vomit. Shuddering he swayed. He wanted something to lean against. He was absolutely out of it and didn't even realize the hand that steadied him. He felt something against his lips and opened his mouth obediently. The liquid poured down his throat, making him immediately feel better.

"I could never stand the floo, but this was definitely worse than normal." He slurred.

"Nice to know. Maybe you could have warned me before!" Snape sneered.

"Sorry, Sir!" Harry mumbled, trying to stand up. He was grabbed by his upper arm and hauled to his feet. They were silent until they reached the oak double doors that led outside.

"Sir, could you please walk slower? My hands are already bruised from catching myself." Harry pleaded, grabbing for the hem of Snape's robes.

Snape muttered something inaudible and slowed down. Gratefully Harry fell into a step beside him, still clutching the sleeve of the professor's robes.

When they entered the Three Broomsticks a happy Mme Rosmerta greeted them.

"Hello, professor. What a rare sight. I always get so few customers when the students are on holidays. What can I do for you two? Who's that lovely boy, by the way?"

"It's none of your business. I have to use your floo." Snape said curtly.

"Oh, very well. Visit me sometime, will you?" she chirped.

Snape said nothing and Harry uttered a small 'bye'.

They reached the floo Snape repeated the actions he had done at his home. Soon, they landed in one of the fireplaces of St Mungo's. Harry was as disorientated as the last time, but this time he wasn't sick again, thanks to the potion he'd been given.

It was noisy in the hall and many people ran around. For Harry it was the first contact with so many people in over a month and it scared him. He desperately clung to the professor, almost trying to hide in his vast robes.

"Stop acting so childish!" Snape hissed and tried to jerk his arm free, but Harry wouldn't let go. People randomly grazed him in passing and it sent him into hysterics. Snape, however, either didn't notie or didn't care. He was just in a bad mood because so many people surrounded him and Potter's presence didn't make it any easier. After all, Potter was the reason he had to come here at all. He would never ever have entered St Mungo's willingly by himself. He walked up to the information desk and asked where he could find somebody to check on the boy's eyes. Harry heard him give some directions, but all he caught in the noise was that they had to go to the fourth floor.

Snape guided him along a corridor till they reached the elevators. He stumbled a lot, because he kept tripping over other people's feet. Finally, they stepped into one of the elevators and he felt Snape pressing the button. He heard a lot of different noise around him, and without seeing what it was, he felt insecure and unprotected. He was shivering and he was breathing rapidly. He knew that he would start hyperventilating soon, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he wanted was to get away. He whimpered quietly, trying to hold the tears in.

There were quite a few people with them in the carriage, bumping into him on occation when new people entered and others left at the landings. He pressed himself into Snape, trying to get away from them. He still didn't really like Snape, but at least Harry knew him, knew there would be little physical harm from him.

He felt the professor wrapping one arm around his small shoulders and Harry gradually stopped shivering, comforted by the meager protection the professor was giving him, though he was still very tense and breathing quickly. The proximity to Snape calmed him somewhat, strange as it was.

He hadn't the time to dwell on it, though, because the elevator stopped at the fourth floor at last. Snape pushed him lightly through the crowd, still holding his arm around Harry's shoulders. On shaking legs, he walked along a deserted corridor. The only footsteps permeating the silence were the professor's and his own. They clicked loudly on the tiles. It was reassuring somehow, because he could hear the echo from the walls, noticing how far the walls were away.

They walked quietly for long minutes until Snape stopped abruptly and knocked on a door.

Harry could hear a feminine voice calling them in and Snape pulled him into the room. The first thing Harry noticed upon entering was the strong smell of disinfectants and the clinical smell a hospital usually had. He could hear footsteps nearing while the woman welcomed them.

"I am Healer Magani. And you are?" she introduced herself. She sounded strict, but her voice was warm end welcoming.

"I'm Professor Snape and this is Laures!" he snarled, decidedly not wanting to be here.

"Now, what can I do for you?" she asked kindly, taking a few more steps nearer. Harry didn't trust her, and inched behind Snape, grabbing his sleeve a little tighter for reassurance.

"We are here, because you may want to have a look at his eyes." Snape answered in a sour tone, sounding a bit cynical.

"Why, yes, yes. Come here, dear!" she said, chipper.

"Where?" Harry asked, staying where he was. Snape, however, stepped aside and gave Harry a light push, who stumbled a few clumsy steps forward. Then a hand fell upon his shoulder, startling him. He flinched heavily and staggered backwards, bumping into something. He gave a frightened cry and dropped to the floor, shaking.

"Oh my! What's wrong with him?" she asked suspiciously.

"He doesn't react well to being touched by strangers, I forgot." Snape explained offhandedly.

Then there were footsteps again and the woman said:

"Come on, Laures. Get up, please!"

Harry nodded jerkily and got to his feet, though he was still shaking.

"Now, give me your hand, will you?" she asked in what she thought was a soothing voice.

Hesitantly Harry extented his hand which was instantly, but gently gripped by the woman. He flinched again, but he didn't pull back this time, and was guided to what he found out afterwards was a couch. After ha had sat down on it, she said.

"I'm going to cast a few spells on you, dear, alright?"

Harry just nodded, fidgeting nervously and a bit scared while picking at the sheets. He felt queasy, though not only because of what this woman was going to do, but about the results, as well.

After the incantation was said he felt a faint tingling behind his eyes. The witch hm-ed and said another spell which he didn't recognize. Finally, she sighed and stepped away.

"Well?" Snape prompted.

"I will be honest with you, Sir!" she said gravely. "If you had come here straight away when this happened, there may have been a chance to restore at least a small amount of his sight, but now his retina is damaged beyond repair! I'm sorry, there is nothing we can do, Sir!"

Harry sat there, dumbstruck. It was irrevocable now. He would never be able to see again. Tears welled up and he raised his hands in front of his face to hide them. He didn't believe that he would be allowed back to Hogwarts anymore, his only home. He would never be able to play Quidditch again. And how was he going to graduate if he couldn't read about anything anymore?

Suddenly he felt two warm arms encircling him, pulling him close to a soft warm body. At first, he was startled and tensed, but then he buried his face in the heavy robes and let the sobs continue to wreck his body.

TBC


	9. The Dursleys and Photos

**Chapter Nine: The Dursleys and Photos**

Snape was startled when Harry started to cry even more intensely, but he didn't pull back. He petted his back in slow circles in a way he hoped would calm the distraught child. He could understand him, however. Laures had probably thought that St Mungo's would be able to help him, and that his condition was only temporary. But now, that he was told this situation was permanent, it was quite a shock.

However, he wouldn't give up hope. There had to be some cure for his eyes! And if there wasn't, he would invent one. The world was relying on Harry to save them. He knew it was stupid to rely solely on a child, but in a way, he did, too. Harry Potter was the hope of the wizarding world.

But that fact was only part of why he wanted to help the child still lying in his arms. He didn't know what it was like to be blind, but he imagined it awful. He wanted to find a way to give this child the possibility to lead a normal life. He had gotten to know Laures as a small, frightened and very shy child. It was hard to combine this picture with the prat he knew from school, but he knew they were one person. He didn't know what changed his attitude so drastically, but he wanted to find out eventually.

He noticed that Laures, he liked to think of him as the lost child and not of Potter, had stopped shaking so badly and was only sniffing now and then.

Nodding to the nurse briefly, he pulled Laures to his feet and led him outside. He uttered a quick goodbye to her, before he shut the door behind them.

Snape and Laures stepped outside the huge building and found themselves in a deserted alley. The sun was shining brilliantly and it was really warm. Laures hadn't said a single word since they left the office and stood apathetic beside Snape. It was as if he had withdrawn into himself, not responding to any outside influences.

"Laures."

"Yes?" he answered tonelessly. Snape squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, because he had his arm still wrapped around his shoulders to guide him.

"We have yet to get your school stuff. Are you up to do that now? Diagon Alley is just a few blocks away." He asked in a calm and warm tone.

"I can't go back there!" he whispered miserably.

"Why not?" Snape asked curiously. He didn't understand what his problem was, besides being blind, though that probably was the problem in Harry's opinion.

Sure enough, he replied.

"But, professor, I'm blind!" A little impatience swung in his tone as if that was a big problem and he was too dumb to see it. But Snape didn't know why that was a big deal. And so he asked.

"And your point is?"

"How am I going to read or write my homework? How am I going to get to classes if I don't see where I am walking?"

_'So that is his problem!'_

"Laures." He said slowly, as if he spoke to a little child. "There are spells to dictate your homework to a quill and spells to read your textbook out loud. And you, being one of the students to know a lot of the secret passages, should be able to remember the normal routes. You have been at Hogwarts for five years now. And furthermore there will always be your friends to help you to get to class."

He looked intently at Laures. He seemed a bit reassured now.

"But what if the press finds out?"

_'Yes, that is a good question.'_ He thought. Laures already continued to talk.

"How will the people react when they find out I'm no longer able to save them? What will Voldemort do? Or how will the students at school behave? I'm certain your Slytherins would love the opportunity to hex me."

_'Yes, they sure would. They are Slytherins after all.'_

"We will find a solution. Don't worry about it. Fact is, you have to finish school, so we have to get your stuff." Snape reasoned.

"My old school stuff is at the Dursleys and the letter for the new school year has either not arrived yet, or I didn't get it. My OWLs have yet to come, too." Laures said quietly.

Surprised, Snape raised his eyebrows. He never knew the child was so talkative. Or maybe he just gave up and submitted to his fate.

"We will go tomorrow and get your things from the Dursleys, okay? The letter should have arrived, because school starts in about a week. Draco should have the list, so I will owl Flourish and Blotts to send the books later. However, you need other things as well. Like decent clothes, new school robes and parchment, ink and more." Snape explained with what he thought was too much patience.

Laures nodded, grabbing for his sleeve to hold onto.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron.

They had been to a shop to buy quills, ink and parchment and were about to enter Mme Malkin's Robes For Every Occasion, when a big group of people walked by. Laures started whimpering since the people were recurrently grazing him and it frightened him. He tried to press himself into Snape to try to melt into him.

After having stumbled twice already over Laures and nearly crashing to the floor, Snape had had enough. He could not continue their shopping tour, that much was clear. So he pulled Laures to the next fireplace and flooed back to Snape Manor. Laures was only a shuddering mess when they arrived.

Snape brought him to his room and got Laures a calming draught. He advised him to go to bed, despite it only being around three in the afternoon. Then he gave Laures a small comforting hug, before he left the room.

As Laures was in bed, and Snape had nothing to do at the moment, he thought he would pay the Dursleys a small unpleasant visit. He flooed to the Leaky Cauldron and apparated from there to Privet Drive. He could not apparate directly from his home, because he had strong anti-apparation wards in place. Though he could have walked to their boundary, he thought that was too much of a walk.

It was a nice afternoon in Little Whinging and the sun was shining brightly. There was little to no wind at all and it had gotten quite warm. Snape, in one of his usual black robes, felt like he should have dressed in something lighter. He had apparated directly in front of house #4.

Looking at the house, he saw a nice white building with a neat lawn and flowerbeds. A few birds were chirping, but that was nearly the only sounds audible.

He opened the garden door and walked up the path to the front door. After confirming that he was indeed at the Dursleys, he rang the bell. He had to wait quite a few minutes until he heard haevy footsteps coming to the door.

He stood a little straighter and deepened his scowl. The door opened and a man of maybe forty or fifty years stood in the doorway. He was really fat with a small head and beady eyes looking at him. They narrowed the moment he realized who was standing at his door.

"What do you want? We don't want anything to do with your freakish lot!" he growled and it seemed like he wanted to do nothing more than slam the door in his face.

Snape got angry, but his only reaction to that statement was a raised eyebrow.

_'What kind of people are they!'_ he thought bewildered. _'They are disgusting!'_

"I am here to gather the belongings of one Mr Potter!" he said with mock politeness.

"Are you, eh? Here is and never has been any Mr Potter!" Mr Dursley spat nastily.

"I think, there has." He said. His voice was still calm and patient, but that was not how he felt. He would have liked to cast a nice little spell on that piece of shit. He was already furious. They were the relatives of Potter! They were worshipping him and spoiling him rotten. He didn't understand why that man was even denying the knowledge of that brat or why he was so unfriendly to him, Snape that is.

Snape deliberately let his wand slip a bit out of his sleeve, so that Dursley would see it. Dursley who had seen the wand was not quite so bold anymore.

"What do you want from us?" he asked.

"I told you that already. The belongings of Mr Potter. Now, would you be so friendly to let me in? Your neighbours would be most curious what a man like me would want from you, don't you think?" he asked snidely. As expected the face of Mr Dursley contorted into horror and he grabbed him, pulling him roughly into the hall, before he slammed the door. He looked quite scared now. Snape smiled cruelly. A frightened man was a docile man, he thought.

"Now, Mr Dursley. Where is Potter's stuff?" he asked sweetly, leaning forward so his face was only about an inch from the other. Dursley's eyes were darting around as though he was searching for help.

"Do I have to repeat myself?" Snape threatened, getting impatient. He wanted to go back. He didn't like leaving Laures all alone. Also, he had to talk to him, before Draco came tomorrow. He had forgotten it earlier, but now it came back to him.

"No!" Dursley squeaked. "We burned them. His freakish stuff is not welcomed here and since he wasn't here anymore, we thought..."

"You did what?" he interrupted sharply. His face showed his best death glare, one that he didn't even save for Potter. Dursley was shaking in fright and could only stammer.

"We.. we.."

"Shut up, you bastard!" he snapped. "When and where did you burn them?" It was no question. It was simply a command ,which had best be answered. Mr Dursley thought the same way and squeaked, his eyes never leaving Snape's face.

"In the shed behind the house three weeks ago."

Snape sent him another of his glares, before he turned on his heel and stormed off.

He entered the shed and saw the pile of ashes instantly. It was not as big as Snape had expected. He kneeled down and raked in the ashes with the tip of his wand. He noticed the fire had not burned down everything completely. Maybe, if he could identify anything of it, he could restore it. He found a a few smoldered edges of what seemed to be a collection of photos. He picked them up with fingers and collected them.

He drew his wand and cast "Reparo!". The pictures were like new. Curiously he looked at them. Three of them were of Potter's parents, one of their wedding with the mutt and two pictures of Granger and Weasley. Nothing special.

He rummaged further in the ashes and found a few tatters, which probably couldn't be restored anymore. He didn't find Potter's wand and neither his invisibility cloak. He saw snippets of pages from his school bocks and tried to repair them, but he just got the page whole again, but the rest of the book remained destroyed.

His notes and essays were lost, as well. He found splinters of a mirror and wondered why Potter wound possess one. He was not Malfoy, who had always one with him, or so he thought.

Under a greater heap of soot he found a golden key.

_'Potter's vault key.'_ He thought with mixed feelings. On the one hand he liked that he found it, because Potter could pay for his things himself, but on the other hand it struck him as strange that Potter had access to the vault. He knew that the Potters had not opened a vault for Harry Potter himself yet, which meant that he had access to the whole money the Potters had possessed. Just the idea of that was simply horrendous for him.

Suddenly he saw another white edge sticking out of the black powder. He picked it up. It was another photo.

_'My, Potter had certainly possessed a lot of photos.'_ He wondered why the photos were the only things he could wholly restore, but he thought it had to do with the amount of magic they contained, which was a lot more than the books'.

He restored it quickly and the next moment he was gaping.

TBC

thank you for your reviews!

cyu as

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	10. A smiling Malfoy

**Chapter Ten: A smiling Malfoy**

He restored it quickly and the next moment he was gaping. The picture was of the person he had least expected Potter to have a photo of. Draco Malfoy. And it was not just any photo of him. He was neither scowling nor sneering. He was _smiling_. No big toothy smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. It was a snapshot and he was not looking directly into the camera. He looked more like he was deep in thought and staring into space.

Snape was floored. He had rarely seen Draco with such an expression on his face and he was his godfather, damn it!

And Potter of all people even had a photo of that! He would give a lot to find out what he was thinking about at that moment - and what could make him smile like that. Draco usualy looked so guarded and malicious. Snape really wanted to know what could make him drop his guard and look so peaceful.

And he had to ask Potter how he got that photo, because he knew that Potter had no camera.

He quickly made a copy of Draco's picture and stuffed it into one of the secret pockets on his robes before he pocketed the rest of the photos.

He briefly entertained various thoughts of hexing the Dursleys into the middle of the next week, but decided against it. Right now, he had things to do. But there was always the opportunity to come back again later and…educate them…thoroughly.

He apparated to the apparation place in Diagon Alley. He went there, because he thought it would be prudent to buy a new collection of books for Potter to replace the ones he had had from his earlier school years at Hogwarts - even though Potter would most likely never look at them again. Snape loved books and he didn't understand that others wouldn't share his passion.

In Flourish and Blotts he wandered along the shelves, picking up the prescribed books for Potter's prior years and taking the liberty of replacing a few of the more useless texts (which all happened to have been written by Lockhart) with something more informative.

Finally, he had all books of every subject Harry had taken during his five school years. He also took a book about Ancient Runes and additional reading material about potion preparation and their ingredients, just in case Potter happened to want to read them – however unlikely that seemed to be.

Harry had expressed very little knowledge about disabled wizards, not that this was unusual. Normally, these accidents were treated immediately and therefore could be healed. Snape decided to talk with Harry about his blindness more thoroughly, so he would understand and not feel sorry for himself any longer. Snape was quite annoyed that Harry lacked his old spirit, and he would do everything, okay nearly everything, to get it back.

All in all he bought over forty books and had to shrink them so he could carry them all with him. He wondered how muggles coped with these problems without being able to rely on magic to make their lives easier.

Noticing the time, he became aware that he had spent too much time in the bookstore like he always did. He regretted getting carried away with himself today, because he may have bought all of the books Harry would need, but he still had to buy all of the prescribed school materials that Laures and he had not been able to buy in the morning.

Several hours later, he apparated home, completely exhausted. Snape knew Potter had no money at the moment, so he paid for everything out of his own pocket in advance, More importantly, Harry would start school again in five days and he had no money of his own to take to Hogwarts with him. After what happened that morning, he didn't think Harry would be able to cope with going to the bank, even if it was just to withdraw some of his own money. He made a mental note to ask Harry to give him the authority to access his bank vault so that he could take care of these problems.

Snape sad tiredly in an armchair in the lounge, contently sipping at his Whiskey, when he remembered that he still had to talk to Laures about Draco.

Sighing, he put down his glass and made his way to Laures' room. He knocked before he entered the dimly lit room. In fact, it was so dimly lit that, on first sight, he couldn't even see Laures at all. He closed the door quietly behind him and took a closer look about the room. The room was so dark and Laures was soo small that he almost missed seeing his small form on the bed, lying curled up in a fetal position. His long black hair was spread about himself and over the covers. He wore black silk pyjama bottoms and a warm wool jumper. His small form was practically swallowed up by the clothing that was far too big for him, even though they were the smallest clothes that Snape owned.

His rhythmic breathing told Snape he was asleep. He looked like a very small forlorn child and rather adorable. Snape growled at having such thoughts. Shaking his head, he walked to the big bed and sat down on the edge. He watched Laures sleep a few more minutes. He was still breathing rather shallow, but he a quiet sleeper and didn't snore.

His small size made the bed seem bigger than it was, like he was sleeping on a king-sized bed.

He could not believe that he had ever_ hated _this child.Of course he had had his reasons, Severus Snape was not a man to do something without a reason, but they didn't seem important anymore. Potter had changed so much. Or was it _him _that had changed? Who could say? Watching Laures sleep, Snape realised that he had come to like the child…and he hated himself for it.

Gently he shook his shoulder to wake him up. Laures groaned, lifted his head and blinked. Then he closed his eyes and layed his head back down.

"Laures..." Snape uttered softly.

"Potter..." Snape tried again.

"What?" the boy mumbled sleepily, burying his face deeper into his arms.

"Laures, I have something to ask of you." He went on in the same deep and warm voice. He was staring intently at Laures, noticing every small change in his expression, which was no mean feat considering Laures still had most of his face buried in his arms. Laures was turning his face minimally to Snape. Snape realised Harry wasn't going to say anything and carried on with the conversation himself.

"My godson is coming here for the last four days before school starts. I ask you to be nice to him."

Laures hmm-ed. Normally Snape was suspicious of people who hmm-ed at him. It usually meant that they had no intention of doing what they'd just agreed to, but in this case, he was quite sure that that was all he was going to get out of Laures.

However, Laures asked in a hoarse vioce and with a sense of foreboding:

"Who is your godson, Sir?"

"Draco Malfoy!"

"Why does this not surprise me." He muttered under his breath but Snape heard it.

"I will behave, Sir." He promised. "But, please, don't tell him who I am. I am Laures. Just Laures, okay?" he pleaded, his dead eyes boring uncomfortable holes into Snape's own.

"If you wish. Do you have anymore questions?" he asked uncomfortably.

"Yes, when does he come?"

"Tomorrow morning." Snape said in a tone that indicated this topic was finished. He retrieved the books and the photos,that he had acquired for Harry this morning, from his pockets and sat them on the bed, before enlarging them to their normal seize. Laures who had felt the shift of magic in the air raised his head warily and asked in a small voice.

"What did you do, Sir?"

Snape didn't answer the question, but merely told him.

"These are the school books of your previous years. They are not the ones you owned, however. I was so free to buy new ones. Yours needed to be replaced, as they were impossible to repair. Similarly, most of your photos could not be restored. These few seven are all that could be saved. The rest of your belongings are lost. I am sorry," Snape said quietly, handing Harry the key to his vault.

"Really? What about my invisibility cloak and the map? Or my wand?"

"I do not know what map you speak of and I did not find your wand. However, it is interesting that you should have such a rare thing as an invisibility cloak. I did not find them among your belongings, however, I shall search for them. They are highly magical and have a stronger chance of being able to be restored, if they have been burned, too.

Also, you and I will have to go to Diagon Alley once more. You still need proper clothing and a new wand." Snape explained in a soothing voice. Laurs tensed at the memory of this morning, nonetheless.

"It is late, get some rest, Laures. Good night!" he said as he stood and walked out. The almost silent „Good night, Sir," Laures whispered in reply was faintly heard before the door was closed.

Harry was surprised that Snape had done all that for him. Getting his things and replacing the lost ones. A warm feeling was rising in his chest. Maybe Snape was not so bad after all.

He picked up the little stack of photos and chose one, before he put the others aside. He tentatively reached out with his magic to the photo, trying to feel the magic shifting when the people on the photo moved. At first, he felt nothing. Then he slowly became aware of the magic that radiated from and surrounded the picture. Only about an hour later, after god knows how many failed attempts, he finally sensed the magic of the person on the photo.

But before he could focus on their movements, he was sound asleep, exhausted from his efforts.

* * *

Draco stood in front of the fireplace, saying goodbye to his parents. Only the day before, uncle Sev, even though Snape was his godfather, he couldn't recall a time when he'd ever called him anything other than uncle Sev, except when he was in school, of course, had confirmed that he could come for the rest of the holidays, which was four days. In five days, on September the first, he would take the train back to Hogwarts for another school year; his sixth.

The news that somebody else was staying with his godfather, surprised him. A child, no less! His uncle couldn't stand children. And he had to be nice to him. He snorted. As if he would be. The only people he was friendly with were his mother, uncle Sev and Blaise Zabini, his ex-lover and best friend.

The goodbye was rather frosty, but that was normal. He hugged his mother, who gave him a peck on the cheek. His father was frostier still in his farewells. Draco shook his hand and listened to a few stern warnings about preserving the honour and integrity of the Malfoy name. With one last glance at his parents, he threw the floo powder into the crackling fire and shouted "Snape Manor".

With a _swoosh_ he entered the fireplace at Snape Manor, and gracefully stepped out of it. He brushed a bit of imaginary soot off his clothes as a Malfoy did not get dirty while floo-ing. Then he put his suitcase down and looked around the room. It was empty, which was expected as Severus normally had breakfast at eight or ten o'clock and it was eleven o'clock now.

He called for a house elf to get Severus and sat down at the empty table to wait. He didn't have to wait long, before Severus marched into the room in his usual imposing demeanor.

He was scowling like he always did when somebody interrupted him in his work until he caught sight of Draco. His features brightened considerably.

"Good morning, Draco!" Severus greeted him warmly.

"Hello, uncle Sev!" Draco replied and his cold mask fell away. To the casual observer who didn't know Draco well, he looked no less imposing or unapproachable, but Severus noticed the change in his demeanour straight away. It matched his own. Neither was sneering or glaring anymore and Severus embraced him lightly.

"You can not have your usual room, because of the boy I already told you about. Please, take the one to the left of it and make yourself at home. I apologise, but I must finish my potion, before we can talk. I'll come and get you then."

With that he already rushed out of the room again. Draco was only slightly surprised as he knew the passion Severus felt for his potions. They would always come first. He grabbed his suitcase and made his way to the room he would be staying in.

It was a large bright room with a pale blue wallpaper. It had a small balcony with a double door through which the sunlight flooded. There was a big fourposter with slytherin-green hangings and silver-blue sheets. A big desk in a dark wood was in the right corner as well. The door and the wardrobe were made in light wood. The door led to the bathroom which was tiled in blue and white and had a big tub, a shower and a sink.

After he had finished unpacking, Draco thought he would pay this mysterious child a visit. He was wondering how old it was and wether it could do magic.

He knocked twice, but after receiving no answer, he let himself in. The sight that awaited him was really not what he had imagined. On the bed was a bunch of long deep black hair spread across the pillow. The rest of the person was covered with a dark green coloured blanket. Many books were spreadon the blanket and some lay on the floor where it looked like they had fallen and lay forgotten, or unnoticed.

When he walked closer he could see that there were a few photos, as well. In fact, this mysterious child was holding one of them in his hand which he just had spotted between the covers.

Curiously he picked it up. He was interested in what could be so precious to someone that they would fall asleep holding onto a picture of it.

Draco nearly dropped the picture when he saw himself smiling at himself. He was shocked. Firstly, he could not grasp how this person had managed to get a hold of a picture where he was actually smiling, because he almost never did and secondly – and more importantly - he'd never seen himself smile before, and he had to admit that he looked quite attractive when he did. The question why a _stranger _had a picture of him, completely escaped him. Disbelievingly he stared at the person still peacefully sleeping in front of him.

After a while, he frowned. He really didn't know what to think of this person. Strange was that the child was still sleeping, as well. It was already twelve o'clock. He sat down on the edge and shook his shoulder, or rather where he assumed his shoulder was.

The youngster flinched noticably and squeaked, before it buried itself even more in it's blanket. He lifted one pale eyebrow in wonder, then he started laughing. He'd expected a lot of things, but this was unexpected. He placed his hand above the child on the blanket again. The child started whimpering and shaking quite badly.

Suddenly the child crept away from him and a bit nearer to where the cover ended. Then a head slowly appeared from under it.

"Who are you?" he asked in a muffled and quivering voice.

"I'm Draco Malfoy." He drawled. "What's with you? Why are you so scared?"

_'Not that I don't appreciate it, but uncle Sev said I have to get along with you.'_ He added silently, smugly.

"I-It's no-nothing." he whispered between chattering teeth. He wasn't cold, no. He was just absolutely frightened about what Malfoy would do to him.

"Wha-what do you w-want f-fr-from m-me?" he managed to stammer.

"Me? I just wanted to get to know the mysterious child uncle Sev willingly harbours." He sneered, looking disdainfully around the room. This was, or rather had, been _his_ room. He'd always stayed in _this_ room when he had stayed at Snape Manor. He didn't know what Severus had thought when he had put the child in here, but he didn't like it.

He scrutinized the child. It was strange, he couldn't even tell if it was a boy or a girl.

"Are you a boy or a girl and how old are you?" he asked, rudely.

"I am a boy and I am sixteen, thank you very much." the child spat bravely, narrowing his eyes. At least, he would have been looking angry, hadn't he been almost completely covered in the blanket.

Slightly startled, though, Draco raised his eyebrows. He couldn't possibly be sixteen. He barely looked twelve. However, he resolved not to comment on this.

His gaze fell, once again, to the picture that he still had in one hand.

"Why do you have a picture of me? Where did you get it?" He looked sharply at Laures who blushed furiously.

"I... I..."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, can't you talk without stuttering?" Draco snapped angrily.

Laures' eyes widened in fear and hurriedly crawled away from him. He was shaking again, and whimpering in fear. He pressed himself against the headboard as if he wanted to disappear through it.

"No. Please, don't." he breathed, staring wide-eyed in his direction, though he seemed to be looking through him, not recognizing Draco anymore.

The next moment, Snape burst into the room. He looked around wildly until he saw Draco and Laures. He breathed a sigh of relief and slumped slightly against the doorframe. Then he mumbled something under his breath and walked towards Draco and Laures.

"What happened, Draco?" he asked sternly.

Draco looked up at him and blinked innocently.

"I didn't do anything. I just wanted to wake him up, because I wanted to talk to him, and so I shook his shoulder lightly."

Snape looked at him _suspiciously_, before turning his attention to Harry. He knew his godson and what he was like.

"Laures." he uttered softly. At first nothing happened except that Draco's eyebrows shot up to his hairline again. Draco seldomly saw Severus being nice to someone at all. So, he was extremely curious about Severus' behaviour toward his charge.

The child, Laures as he knew now, turned his head to Severus who continued talking softly. Slowly Laures seemed to come back to realitly, relaxing slightly.

Severus turned away from him and looked at Draco with an unreadable expression.

"I think you and I have to talk."

He said and Draco shuddered inwardly. He knew by Severus' tone that he had done something seriously wrong, though he didn't knew what, which made him feel even more nervous.

TBC

* * *

Hi guys,

another chapter is there and if you want to you can have a look at a one-shot from me, feel free to do so.

thank you for all who have reviewed.

cyu as


	11. The Talk

**Chapter Eleven: The Talk**

Severus turned away from him and looked at Draco with an unreadable expression.

"It is time you and I had a talk." he said and Draco shuddered inwardly. He knew by Severus' tone that he had done something seriously wrong, though he didn't know what, and that made him feel even more nervous.

"Laures, please, get dressed so we can have breakfast. Be in the small dining room in half an hour." Severus told the small boy, before he stood up and looked at Draco with a meaningful gaze. Draco nodded and followed him out of the room. They walked in apprehensive silence to the dining room, and Draco was a bit worried about what was to come.

He wished Severus would just yell at him for doing whatever it was he'd done. His Godfather's silent disappointment made him feel a thousand times worse than the punishment he received at the hands of his father.

They arrived at the dining room and Severus gestured for him to sit down across from him. He looked at Draco for a moment before he started to speak. At first, Draco held the eye contact, but then he averted his eyes and glanced at the polished and still bare table surface. Nervously, he twisted his hands and waited for his godfather to begin.

"I have told you to be gentle with Laures. I know how easily Laures is frightened, so I do not blame you entirely. But you sent him into a panic and were at a loss as to what to do. Remember how he reacted to you today and keep it in mind when you interact with him again." Severus warned and took a deep breath, before he went on.

"Since you will be living here with Laures for a time, there are certain things about him that you should know. Firstly, Laures is blind, and that only recently. Furthermore, he underwent some _terrible_ experiences this summer and has been severely traumatized. I will not give details about this. That is for Laures to tell you if he chooses. So, do _not _touch him unless it is absolutely necessary."

Draco looked closely at Severus. It was clear from his expression that he wasn't joking. He was very very serious and wouldn't hesitate to send him home if he didn't behave. But what an odd request. Why on earth was he being told not to touch him?

"Do you understand?" Snape asked quietly.

"Yes, sir. I do." he replied absently, still thinking about Laures. Laures was blind, too. That would explain why he was so scared of him. He didn't know who he was and he couldn't see what he was doing. Thinking about it, he'd be nervous too if there was someone standing in front of him and he couldn't see what they were doing.

He found it hard to believe that Laures was a boy though. He was so pretty, like a real girl, not a sixteen year old boy, thought Draco, blushing in spite of himself.

It was at that moment that Laures decided to stumble into the room.

* * *

He opened the door and slowly and uncertainly walked into the dining room. A chair scraped loudly over the floor shortly after and somebody walked up to him.

"Laures, I am going to take your left arm and lead you to your chair, all right?"

He recognized Snape's voice instantly. The soft baritone belonged to only him and so Laures nodded. Then he felt something warm on his upper arm. He still flinched at the sudden touch – he couldn't help it – but he didn't pull away. He let his professor lead him gently to his chair and help him into it.

Harry felt a sudden increase of magic in front of him and he could smell the breakfast, or rather the lunch as he had got up quite late.

Feeling rather hungry as he had not eaten much the day before, he heartily tucked in. As hungry as he was, he couldn't bring himself to eat very much. He still wasn't used to eating a great deal. He felt a bit uneasy about Malfoy as well. Harry knew he was sitting at the table with him. He couldn't see where he was, but he could feel Malfoy staring at him, and it made him uncomfortableNot knowing if Malfoy was up to something or not was quite disconcerting.

"Why are you looking at me? Please, stop it." he asked softly.

"Why would I look at you? You're ugly." Malofoy sniped with a sneer.

"Draco!" Snape snapped furiously. "What have I told you!"

Harry didn't listen any further. He was too caught up in stopping the tears that threatened to fall. Blinking furiously he put down his fork and knife and bowed his head. Why was the bastard being so mean to him? He had hoped for Malfoy to be different than he was at school. Here, where he didn't have to be a prejudiced arse who did what his father told him. Obviously, it was no act and he really was how Harry had gotten to know him.

It hurt to see him be like this. He wished with all his heart that Malfoy would change and be civil to him, maybe even have a decent talk. He didn't think that Snape had told Malfoy who he was, because then he would have been drowned in insults and mockery for his current situation. There had to be something else that made him hate Laures, but what? He had hoped for a new beginning, a different beginning.

He remembered the picture Colin had taken of him at school. Colin had told him that he had followed Malfoy to take a good shot of him and Malfoy never realised that he was being watched from the shadows.

It was easy to persuade Colin to give him the photo. For a few photographs of Harry, Colin happily handed it over to him. He hadn't known what to expect when he'd heard about it but he had to admit, it was an amazing picture. He'd never seen Draco looking quite so…well, he didn't know how to describe it. But it changed his whole perception of his school nemesis.

And here he was being the mean spirited git he always was at school. Harry knew that the injuries Vernon had given him must have left him with ugly and disfiguring scars. He could feel them when he touched his face and his body. In some small way, he was glad that Vernon had blinded him and spared him the agony of having to look at them every day. He certainly didn't need Malfoy to rub it in, though.

"Laures!" A voice said sharply and Harry flinched and his head snapped up.

"Laures." the same voice said, a lot calmer.

"Yes?" he replied in a small voice.

"I have to have a look at your injuries one last time. After that I will start teaching you the spells you will need to know to be able to read and write now that you cannot use your eyes. You have only four days left here. It is time we got started, don't you think?" Snape said warmly.

Harry nodded and picked up his knife and fork again. A short time later, Malfoy asked Snape:

"I still have to buy my school books. Father didn't have the time to come with me and suggested I go with you instead. Is that okay?"

"Yes. Laures still needs some things from Diagon Alley as well."

_'Oh, yeah.' _Harry thought. _'Snape only bought my school books and writing utensils. I still have to get new robes, better yet I need a whole new wardrobe. I can't keep on walking around in Snape's clothing.'_

"May I have your Hogwarts letter to copy it, Draco?" Snape asked politely, though it was clear from his tone that he would not accept "no" for an answer.

"Yes, sir. May I ask why?" Malfoy anwered curiously.

"Yes, you may. I need to know what is needed for Laures. He still has to choose his subjects, though it's rather late to do so. And you have yet to show me your OWLs." he reprimand Malfoy lightly. Harry listened intently to their conversation while he ate. When Snape mentioned the OWLs, Harry remembered that he had yet to get his. He decided to ask Snape about it.

"Professor, do you know why the owl couldn't deliver my letter? It's not as though I've been unplottable." Harry carefully worded his sentence, so Snape would know what he was talking about. He didn't feel comfortable enough to talk freely about this topic with Malfoy in the same room.

"No, I do not. However, I shall ask for them, so you can choose your subjects." Snape replied.

"You will be in my year at Hogwarts then? Why don't I know you?" Malfoy asked suspicously.

"I..." Harry began.

"He's been living Merlin knows where and has gotten private tutoring up until now." Snape answered curtly for Harry who didn't know what to say.

"Why is he here, anyway?" Malfoy asked further.

"I have already explained this to you. I found out that he was a wizard and proposed that he come along when I go back to Hogwarts." Snape explained shortly.

Harry sensed the tension between Malfoy and his professor. Snape was obviously not tolerating his rude behaviour towards him now. It made him feel very awkward to be in the middle of their argument. He felt really miserable, too, that Draco was pointing out all of his bad points and that he just wanted to kick him while he was down. Plus, causing all of this trouble between Draco and his Godfather made him feel only worse.

Maybe it was that Malfoy did not seem to be able to stop asking questions about him.

"Laures, have you finished?" Snape asked, but when he saw my empty plate, just went on. "Good you have emptied your plate, Laures. At this rate, you will quickly regain your strength," Snape said, quickly changing the subject.

"Would you like another helping?"

"No. I can't eat anymore," Harry replied.

"Very well then. Come with me." Severus said, pushing his own half-empty plate aside.

"What about me?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

"You can do your homework or brew some potions. I will speak with you later."

Harry stood up and walked around the tablekeeping one hand on the edge the whole time, before grabbing Snape's sleeve and following him out of the dining room. They walked through many corridors and hallways and Harry was sure he'd never been taken to this part of Snape's home before. Snape stopped suddenly and led Harry into a room. He could feel waves of magical energy emanating from the edges of the room.

"This is one of my potion storage rooms. Sit here while I gather the potions I will need for you."

The potions master guided Harry to a chair in the middle of the room, before he walked away.

Harry waited nervously, because he wasn't sure how Snape would determine the state of his injuries.

He heard some bottles clinging against each other and scraping on shelf boards. Finally, Severus returned to Harry and placed the vials and tubes he had gathered on a table beside him.

"Please, remove your clothes." Snape asked gently, but Harry froze nevertheless. After he had come out of his stupor again with the help of hands calmly stroking his back, he nodded. Snape surely wouldn't do anything like Harry had initially thought at being told to strip.

"All of them?" he asked shyly.

"You can leave your boxers on."

He quickly got out of his clothes, blushing furiously the entire time, and sat back on the chair. Harry felt uncomfortably vulnerable without his clothes even if it was just Snape with him. The professor prodded and poked Harry gently around his ribs and his ankle.

"Your wounds seemed to have healed quite nicely. Are you in any pain at all?"

Harry shook his head quickly.

"Good. Now I am going to apply a salve that will be able to remove some of the smaller scars. It will not hurt, but the salve is quite smelly."

Harry felt him move and crouch in front of him. Then Snape took his left hand gently in his own and rubbed the salve in, before he moved on to the other scars that were on the skin of his arm.

The nearer he moved to his face, the more he could smell the salve. Snape was right, the salve was really smelly and it smelled just like the cleansing agent the Dursleys always used at their home.

The one that had been used so brutally against him. He started shivering while the memories flooded his mind and he forgot the world around himself. He was trapped under his uncle, desperately trying to push him off and dodge all of his uncle's slaps and punches. He screamed when Vernon poured the cleaning solution over Harry's face and some of it spilled into his mouth. He tried to spit it out but the bottle was forced into his mouth, which was held shut while his nose was pinched so he had to swallow the contents.

Strangely, the fluid going down his throat didn't taste that bad. And then he heard a gentle voice, speaking soft words of comfort, breaking through his memories to bring him out of his own private darkness.

He opened his eyes to see why it was different this time and where his unlce had gone to. Black was all he saw, though. For a moment he was really disorientated and blinked a few times, but he had opened his eyes. The colour didn't change, however. Harry closed his eyes and tried with his other senses to find out where he was. The first thing he felt was the calming potion that had been poured down his throat. Then he felt a great comforting warmth.

"Have you calmed down now, Harry?" a deep soft voice asked him. Realisation dawned on him. He was in Snape's study. He must have fallen from his chair, because he found himself in the potion master's arms.

Harry nodded and sat up, even though he was very reluctant to do so. While he could be very surly and grumy sometimes, Snape had a really soothing warmth and aura.

"Are you able to begin the lesson now?" Snape inquired. "You will tell me later what happened. Let us conentrate on the lessons now or we will never get startet."

"Yes, sir." Harry agreed.

"Good. First of all, since you don't have a wand yet, you can use my old wand."

He handed Harry a relatively short wand. The moment Harry took the wand in his hand he felt that the magic channeling item was not like his own at all. Harry thought it was coming from a dragonheart string, but he wasn't sure. The wood from which the wand was made was really hard and solid.

He probed it with his own magic and assumed that it would work for him, though not in it's maximum capacity.

"I think we will start with the reading that is easier than the writing." Snape said, placing a book on his lap and moving behind him.

"Take the wand into your hand. I'll show you the wand motion." The professor directed, but you could hear that he fell back into his lecture mode. Harry was really nervous that he would screw up and his hand was trembling slightly. The warm hand that closed around his own must have felt it, but the professor didn't comment on it.

Instead he slowly guided the hand in the way he should move it while saying the incantation accordingly. Snape performed the spell a few more times, before he let Harry try on his own. A few times the professor had to correct the hand motion and the aim where he should be casting the spell.

Finally, Harry got the hang of it and a dry voice slowly rose from the book, reading the text in an uneven monotonous drone.

"I think that will do for the moment." Snape announced and canceled the spell. "Now, let us attempt the writing spell."

After lunch, Snape proposed that they all go to Diagon Alley as it would be likely less full than it would be on the last or second to last day of the holidays. Harry had practiced his spell work with Severus all morning and now he could spell a quill to write for him and to let a certain charm read the written texts or books for him.

Meanwhile, Draco had spent the morning finishing up his holiday homework and brewing potions for his godfather. He was happy to let Draco improve his potions skills and brew the simpler potions to replenish his stock.

They travelled by Floo again. Malfoy stepped through first but Harry was still feeling nervous until Snape pulled him close and they stepped into the fire place together. He had a firm grip on him, but not hard enough to make Harry uncomfortable. It was strange to be so close to him, though. The way Snape held him, it almost felt like he was getting an awkward hug from the older man.

He appreciated the gesture and also that he didn't have to travel alone. He was scared of travelling. The thought of being whisked along while he couldn't see scared him. He was afraid that he would step out of the wrong fireplace or get sick again. Snape's strong hold grounded and calmed him greatly.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice that they had arrived at Diagon Alley already. Harry was dimly aware of Snape, still securely wrapped in his arm. He never noticed the many people that were surrounding them. It was easy to get lost in thought, he thought, when you had little to disturb you. The buzzing of the people was an even background noise and he did not care much.

Malfoy's familiar drawl brought him back to reality. He certainly didn't like Malfoy, but his behaviour toward him was so familiar that it was comforting. It brought with it a strange sense of normality that Harry missed. Sometimes he felt so detached from the others and the world in itself, because he couldn't connect with it visually any more.

So hearing Malfoy ask who would pay for him gave him an odd sense of relief.

When Snape released him from his grip he was left feeling exposed and cold.

"Laures, wait here with Draco until I get back." Snape spoke insistently.

"Why? Where are you going?" Harry asked, beginning to panic.

"I need to go to my vault and withdraw some money. Wait here." he explained, before he grabbed Harry's hand and placed it on Malfoy's shoulder. Harry could hear his footsteps fading and blending together with other people's hurried steps.

"Would you mind removing your hand from my shoulder?" Malfoy demanded with mock politeness.

"S-sorry." Harry mumbled and jerked the hand back as if he'd just burned it while he blushed furiously.

An uneasy silence descended upon them and they shifted awkwardly, hoping that Snape would come back soon.

"Sorry. About earlier, you know." Malfoy suddenly apologised haltingly. "You're not ugly. I think I... I'm a little jealous, because normally... normally it's me who gets all of his attention, you know." he went on so quietly that Harry had to strain his ears to hear him.

He was sure he'd never heard Malfoy apologise even once in all the years he'd known him. Snape must have given him quite a tongue-lashing with some threat to persuade him to apologise when he had left for a moment to check up on Malfoy during the lessons. That was propably why he left the two alone and got the money by himself.

"It's alright." Harry said, beginning to understand. "I know I'm intruding on you and the professor and I'm sorry, too. I don't know why he's been so kind but it feels good…after everything that's happened."

Harry confided in him. It was by no means easy, but maybe it would clear the air between them a bit and they could move past this bickering and fighting and maybe start to become friends.

He needed friends, he realised. Hermione and Ron were his best friends, but they could be annoying, too. Sometimes they didn't seem to understand that he needed some space.

Besides, they hadn't written to him since school had let out. It could have been that his relatives had destroyed all letters that had arrived, which would have meant his school letters and others, but they could have written after he had been abandoned. He had gotten no letters then, either. Naturally, he was a bit dissapointed, but maybe they had a good reason not to write him.

(Not to mention, that he just forgot in all the trouble that he told them not to write gg)

Malfoy interrupted his thoughts.

"Severus won't tell me what happened and why he took you in. Said it wasn't his place to tell."

Harry recognised the unspoken question in that statement.

"He was right." He confirmed. "Maybe I'll tell you later. This is neither the place nor the time. Besides, I think Snape is coming back."

Harry said, as a set of footsteps steadily approached them.

"You are right." Malfoy agreed relcutantly.

"Shall we go? We have much to do today." Snape said when he reached Harry and Draco.

Buying school robes was a time consuming exercise, so they did that first to get that out of the way. They visited the Apothecary next and restocked their potion supplies. Snape spent quite some time speaking with the Apothecary, buying some items and placng others on order. It was only after they had left the shop that Harry realised that it was probaly his fault that Snape's potion stores were so low.

After that they headed for Eyelope's owl imperium to get some owl treats and food, before they had some trouble in the store for parchment and other writing utensils. Malfoy pitched a fit because the expensive ink he always used was unaviable and he wouldn't take another. Harry finally baited him with a shaky voice into buying common ink with the promise to tell him everything that happened to him over the summer.

Harry's promise had an instant effect on Draco, who stopped yelling mid-word.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"I am," Harry gulped.

Snape initially objected to that promise and that he should choose something else, but Harry was unamendable. Their last stop was the bookstore where Harry could text his new-learned spell in the real life.

TBC

thanks for all of your reviews. i answer the reviews privately if there are questions.

cyu as


	12. The Dursleys again

**Chapter Twelve: The Dursleys again**

They'd done so much already, but their adventurous day was far from over. Harry needed new normal clothes - no robes - and they were best bought in Muggle London. On their way they stopped for a rest at the ice cream parlor that Diagon Alley harboured, Florean Fortisque' Parlour**.  
**

Snape and Harry were sitting at a table sipping their tea, already eating their ice-cream, while Malfoy still had not decided what he wanted and he had to wait twice as long for his special creations. When he finally had ordered his ice cream, he said:

"Excuse me; I need to go to the toilet." and disappeared into the building. Snape took advantage of Malfoy's absence and told Harry what he had wanted to say all along.

"I am not happy with the promise you have made to Draco. You need not have offered to bare your soul to tempt him to cease his tantrum", Snape said quietly.

"I know, but I think it'll be okay. I want to clear the air with him. He's seen enough to start guessing at things anyway. I'd rather have him know about this summer than have him start making up ridiculous scenarios."

Harry replied more confidently than he really felt. He wouldn't admit to Snape that he was scared about how Malfoy would react to the news, and that he had to recount them once again.

"I am very fond of my godson, but he is capable of being more than a little insensitive." Snape said, as if reading his mind. Harry was surprised. It sounded strangely like an apology. He stirred his ice cream absent mindedly while Snape looked on.

"I have seen the extent of your injuries and I have seen the toll they have taken on you. I wish you would reconsider." Snape told Harry quietly.

Harry nodded thoughtfully and changed topics.

"What about my OWLs?"

"I will go to the ministry this evening and get them while you are talking to Draco. Think about how much you really want him to know." Snape cautioned.

Draco returned before Harry had a chance to respond, effectively ending the conversation there and then.

Now that he had a chance to think about his decision rationally, he wondered whether he had made a mistake. After all, Malfoy wasn't known for being the caring and understanding type. On the other hand, he couldn't forget the way he'd looked in the photo Colin had taken of him. He wanted to believe that there was another side to him, but he hoped he wasn't making a mistake.

The last part of their shopping trip involved looking in stores in Muggle London. In typical Malfoy style, Draco decided he didn't want to go to a muggle area. He wouldn't even change his mind when Harry reminded him of his promise to tell him everything that had happened to him over the summer.

"You promised me you would tell me what brought you to my godfather's doorstep if I settled for buying inferior ink. I did that. What else are you prepared to give me to walk among the muggles?" Draco demanded.

"Draco Malfoy you will stop behaving like a spoiled child or I will make things very unpleasant for you." Snape hissed. Harry could hear Draco gulp.

Snape's threat worked. Draco became instantly agreeable and Harry could buy his new wardrobe with the professional help of Malfoy who gave excellent advice when it came to what would suit him and which colours could be matched and which should not. Snape sighed at his fussiness more than once but let him have his way.

Malfoy even paid attention to the sometimes horrendous prices, so that Snape's money wouldn't be depleted completely.

Harry wasn't sure he would be able to handle having shop assistants touching him and fussing about him. He was still nervous to be about other people, but as it turned out, Malfoy was the only person who touched him. In fact, Malfoy made sure that he was the only person who touched him. In between looking about the store for outfits, he and Snape managed to keep the shop assistants from smothering Harry, who was extremely grateful to them.

He only started to become a little whiny because his feet started to hurt, but that wasn't surprising since Malfoy dragged them from one clothes store to the next until Harry felt like he'd walked from one end of London to the other. Malfoy was in his element.

Finally, Snape put a stop to it. It was getting quite late, although the sun was still shining low at the sky.

"Draco. We need not visit all of the clothing shops in London today. We can leave some for another day."

"The sun's still out. What time is it?" Harry asked.

"It's only about six o'clock," Draco replied, looking at his designer label watch.

"Can we go to McDonalds? I've never had the chance to eat there, but I've always wanted to." Harry pleaded.

"Absolutely not. You should eat something better than that scrap. It is not healthy and you need nutritious food. You are still too skinny." Snape said resolutely.

"I know, but it's really tasty. You should try it, too. What do you say, Malfoy?" Harry turned to him expectantly.

"I don't say anything!" Malfoy said rather forcefully. He looked tired and Harry was just a little pleased that Draco had worn himself out while he'd dragged Harry across halfway across London.

Harry's still blind, so maybe you should say Draco sounded tired.

"Please, Professor." Harry begged imploringly.

"Laures, stop begging like a dog! I can't stand it." Snape snarled. Clearly, he was tired from the long day, too. His patience was short and he was in no mood to argue about such petty things, so he gave in.

"We will go to this damned McDonald's. But after that I have to go somewhere and you will come with me. Draco may accompany us."

They had fun at McDonald's. Snape muttered non-stop about the poor quality of the food and the service. Malfoy laughed at the "stupid Muggles" and the funny objects like umbrellas, cell phones and cars. He had done so all throughout the day.

Harry didn't know what he was letting himself in for when he'd asked to go to McDonalds. Malfoy had no idea how to order or what to choose. He had no idea what a "McChicken", or "Coca Cola" was. Snape was slightly more informed about Muggles, but still needed to ask Harry to quietly explain the menu to him, which wasn't an easy task as he and Malfoy kept laughing at the funny names of the food. Even so, Harry wasn't sure he was the best person to explain the menu as he'd never even been to a McDonalds. His knowledge came from listening to Dudley brag about the different foods he'd eaten every time he went to McDonalds.

In the end, Snape ordered their food, largely because Malfoy had a difficult time saying the words without laughing and they settled themselves at a quiet table in the corner.

Harry savoured his meal, even though Snape and Malfoy wouldn't stop talking and laughing.

Snape paid for all, complaining about how expensive this was. He had to admit that the food tasted good, however. Malfoy seemed to like his "McChicken", too, but he was only grousing about having to eat with his fingers and that they were all sticky from the mayonnaise.

When it was nearing seven o'clock Snape hurried them to the station at King's Cross. Snape bought the tickets and Harry assumed that they would be heading back to the school, so it was quite a surprise when they got off the train in Surrey.

Snape had anticipated that Harry would tense at that name and even Malfoy noticed it, though he didn't understand why.

Snape placed his arm around Harry's shoulders, trying to reassure him and Malfoy walked on the other side of Harry, giving him an extra feeling of security. Harry appreciated Snape's gesture, as it had been Malfoy that led him all day. He soon became tired from following Snape's large strides, so Malfoy supported him instead while Snape walked ahead.

He shivered in dread as he realised where they were going. Snape led them to a Taxi stand and he took the front seat, letting Draco and Harry share the back seat.

His wand was really important and he had to get it from Dudley's second bedroom. Harry had been able to hide that under the floorboards. His precious photos had not been under them, because he was looking at them one night when the Dursleys burst into the room and took the album from him with his other things.

The trip to Privet Drive was not a long one and before Harry knew it, Snape was paying the driver and they were getting out of the car. Harry silently pleaded that he didn't have to enter that damned house ever again.

"Come on. Let's get it over with. I don't want to be here any longer than necessary…whatever the reason we are here." Malfoy drawled, leading Harry to the house.

"Do I have to go in with you? Can't I wait here?" Harry begged in a very shaky voice.

"If you must, stay here with Draco. Where did you hide your things?" Harry could hear the anger underlining his tone. He guessed that it was directed at the Dursleys rather than at him, because Snape stressed the word hide.

"Upstairs in Dudleys second bedroom. There's a loose floorboard under the bed. They should be there... the room should be easy to find. The door has padlocks and a cat flap." He described the room haltingly. Just thinking about it brought back bad memories that he never wanted to remember. He was breathing heavily and his knees felt weak. He was desperately clinging to Malfoys arm, so he wouldn't fall.

He heard Snape leave and knock on the door. Malfoy was obviously catching up on the events as he led Harry away from number four.

Harry was lost in his memories and worked himself up into a shaking mess. In fact, he was shaking so badly that Malfoy had to ease him down to sit on the curb. Then Malfoy sat down beside him and tried to calm Harry which failed miserably. Still grabbing Malfoy's robes desperately, Harry cried, hiding his face in the folds of the clothes.

Draco was truly at a loss what to do with the frightened boy, especially, because he had never been one to show emotion and to help others.

Suddenly Harry heard voices from a past that he thought he'd left behind him when he had landed, bloodied, weak and dying, on Severus' front door

He knew those voices all too well and all of the anger and hate and fear and terror that those people - who dared to call themselves his relatives - made him feel, broke free of their tenuous restraints and spilled over.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Malfoy asked, scared that something had happened to Laures. He made some small, but extremely clumsy, attempts to calm him down but was at a loss as to how to help the small boy who had fallen, in a crying heap, into his arms.

The voices were getting louder, meaning the persons came nearer. Laures yanked at Malfoy's robe and buried his face in it even deeper. Tears soaked Malfoy's chest and his shoulders shook silently.

„What is it? Won't you tell me?" Malfoy asked, trying to pull Laures up so that he could look at him properly.

The small boy was not answering. It did not even look like he recognised Malfoy at all. His eyes looked hollow, not focussing on anything and he whimpered incoherently.

Noticing that he wouldn't get very far if he continued to shout a Laures, he did the only thing that seemed logical in this situation. He pulled Laures further to himself and hugged him tightly, pressing their bodies together. Laures held onto him for dear life and Malfoy noticed that he seemed to calm a bit when he petted Laures' hair.

"Hey, look what we have here!" the biggest boy shoutet. "It's a freak with a freak girl-friend."

Laures flinched at the words, and Draco tightened his arms, while the boys in front of them dissolved into laughter. He realized that they were the reason for Laures' frightened behaviour.

Draco narrowed his eyes angrily and tried to murder them with his gaze, which they – unfortunately - didn't notice.

"Listen you insignificant piece of filth, you have exactly three seconds to apologise," Draco said, in a voice that was as cold as ice.

The boys looked at each other and burst into a fresh round of laughter. Slowly and deliberately, Draco disentangled one of his arms from its place around Laures and reached for his wand, but Laures sensed what he was about to do and caught his arm.

"Don't, Draco. Please. You can't do any magic outside school. You'll get expelled." Harry pleaded.

Draco snorted contemptuously, but relaxed his arm which he had tried to pull free of Harry's grasp.

"Hey, big D, that girl looks a bit like your cousin." commented the one with the rat-like face.

Draco couldn't be positive, but he thought the boy looked a little frightened at the mention of Big D's cousin.

"That freak is already back at St Brutus' for Incurably Criminal Boys." The grossly overweight boy grunted.

"Is he? What a pity. He was fun to play with. What was his name again? Harvey or Harry or something like that?"

The boy obviously did not know when to shut up, Malfoy thought. Big D had to have been obvious enough to show he didn't want to talk about his cousin even to those dunderheads.

"Yeah, Harry Potter. Why are you so interested? I don't want to talk about that freak anymore. I got a new playstation game. Come and have a look at it. I might even let you have a go," he snapped, leading the rest of the boys down the path and into the house Snape had disappeared into only moments before.

'Harry Potter... did he really say Potter? What's this _St Brutus'_ he's blathering about? Potter is at my school. Unfortunately.' Draco thought bewildered by what he just heard.

Harry heard him enter the house from which angry screaming could be heard. The voices were cut off when the door closed.

Harry was still huddled inside Draco's protective arms when Snape returned.

"Laures, is this all? I found a wand and a blank piece of paper wrapped in an invisibility cloak."

"Yes, thank you, sir. This is all. Can we go now?"

"You've got an invisibility cloak?" Malfoy interrupted incredulously.

"Yes, I got it from my father." Harry answered quietly. It pained him to think about his real family, especially now. He would do almost everything to get them back, or never have lost them at all.

The way back to Snape Manor in the cab was quiet. Everyone was lost in his own thoughts. The ride was a long one and Draco fell asleep during it, even thoug he tried his best to stay awake. His body slumped slightly and when the cab did a sharp turn, he slid over to Harry and his head rested against Harry's shoulder. Harry flinched when Draco came in contact with him, but the weight was warm and strangely comforting and that's why he didn't push him away. He didn't want to jostle Draco and wake him up, so he sat as still as he could, which was no mean feat. He was sure the driver was trying to hit every bump and hole in the road, and was trying to fly around every corner he could find.

It was a strange feeling to be so close to another living being, especially when they were in such a vulnerable state. For no reason at all, Harry found himself wondering about the way Draco looked when he slept.

"We are there." Snape said, stopping Harry from exploring that line of thought too much further. Snape paid the driver and Harry gently shook Draco awake. Draco mumbled grumpily. He would rather have stayed asleep.

They entered the house and Snape led them directly to Harry's room, because he thought if Harry still wanted to say anything to Draco, he might be more comfortable doing so in familiar environment. Privately, he doubted whether Draco would hear very much as he looked very tired. Draco rarely showed any signs of weakness, including fatigue, so if he looked tired, he must have been very tired, but it wasn't surprising. Today had been a very long day.

He guided them to the bed and let them sit down or in Draco's case just fall onto it.

"Do you need anything, Laures?" Snape asked, sounding irritated in spite of his attempt to sound gentle. Laures shook his head wordlessly.

"Good night, Laures." He said softly.

"Good night, Sir." Laures replied just as softly.

He walked out of the room and closed the door. He still had the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something and went through every possible thing in his head, but he didn't know what it was.

Giving up, he turned to his own room, when it struck him that Harry still had not received his OWL-grades.

Turning instantly on his heel, he headed straight for the fireplace. He tossed a handful of floo-powder into the still burning fire and stepped into the fireplace. After calling "Ministry of Magic, Atrium", he disappeared with a swoosh.

Harry was alone with Draco now. He knew he should tell Draco about his summer, but Draco was already asleep and, besides, he didn't really want to. It was tempting to just let him sleep, especially since he had already been so grumpy about being woken up the last time.

He listened to Draco's calm and steady breathing for a while, but he felt too tired himself to stay awake much longer. Draco had just fallen back onto the bed and had ended up lying across it so that no one else would be able to sleep comfortably on the rest of the bed even if it was queen-size.

He didn't want to wake Draco up but he didn't think he'd be able to move Draco all the way to another room, so Harry just grabbed him gently under his armpits and and moved his body up so that he was sleeping with his head on the pillows and taking up only one side of the bed.

Harry stopped to catch his breath. Draco was heavy! He was also, apparently, a very heavy sleeper to have slept through all of that pushing and pulling and nudging. Once he'd caught his breath, he reached under Draco and pulled the covers out from under him. Draco didn't even stir and Harry was a little miffed that he had managed to sleep so peacefully while Harry had worked so hard.

He reached up to adjust the pillow and his hand accidently brushed Draco's hair. He hadn't realised just how soft it really was.

Holding his breath excitely he let his fingers gently glide through the blond hair. Harry knew it was platin-blond, since he had seen it so often on his school enemy. He was sad that he would never see it again. He had to content himself with feeling it.

It was so soft, softer than silk, Harry thought dreamily. His hand slowly wandered from Draco's hair to his forehead and over his nose to his cheeks. The skin was just as soft as his hair, like a baby's. He tried to memorize the contures of his face, because he thought it would help him picture him better, now that he couldn't see anymore.

Harry had sometimes felt detached from his body, as if it wasn't his own. As if he weren't real. But the longer he felt this beautiful skin under his fingertips, the more he felt alive, as though he had been led back into the real world again.

He didn't think of the person beside him as Malfoy, and he was very glad that Draco didn't know what he was doing.

When Harry felt his eyelids getting heavy, he just slipped Draco's and his shoes off and undid both of their robes. Then he lay down next to Draco, facing him, and covered them with the blanket. Exhausted as he was, he let his eyes fall closed and felt the tension leave his body as sleep claimed him.

TBC

* * *

hi,

i have read the mcdonalds scene in another story, and liked it, so i put something similar in my own story.

thank you for all your reviews. we have even reached the 100 reviews mark. one chapter left, and you will have to wait some time, because chapter 13 is the last one prewritten.

cyu as


	13. Another Day

**Chapter thirteen**

_When Harry felt his eyelids getting heavy, he just slipped their shoes off and undid the robes. Then he lay down next to Draco, facing him, and covered them with the blanket. Exhausted as he was, he let his eyes fall closed and felt the tension leave his body as sleep claimed him._

The next morning passed fairly quickly as Harry and Snape practised using the spells that would read Harry's texts to him and charm his quills to write for him. His first attempts to use the spells were dreadful but after a few hours of solid practice, his books were reading to him and his quills were doing a good job of keeping up with his dictation. Every now and then, something went wrong with the spell, or Harry's cast missed its mark, but he would grow better with practice. Harry didn't know what Snape thought of his attempts but, since he didn't say anything, Harry assumed that Snape thought he must have been doing well.

As for what Draco was doing, Harry didn't know for sure, but he was outside enjoying the warm sunshine. If he had to guess, he would say that Draco was flying on his broom or riding his horse, or whatever else he did when he was outside.

Snape was seated at his desk, monitoring Harry's progress and catching up on a little paperwork of his own. Actually, having to do paperwork was only an excuse to take a break from the heat and enjoy the morning breeze, which was blowing through the open window next to his desk.

"You can stop now. I just remembered that I have yet to give you your OWL results." Snape said to him a few hours later. Harry lifted the spells he had just cast and put his wand away. Then he stood up and walked slowly and a little unsteadily to Snape's desk, keeping his hands out in front of him so that he wouldn't bump into anything.

He had been staying with Snape for more than a week now but he still did not feel entirely comfortable in his surroundings even though he had come to know them a little by now. Harry still felt like he might walk into something at any moment, or that the ground might give way from under his feet. And he was as unsteady and uncertain as he had been during the time that he had spent wandering about in the wilderness just days after he had lost his sight.

Harry took a seat at Snape's desk and turned his attention to the Professor and the letter.

"Will you read it to me, sir? Or shall I try the spell on it?" Harry asked, not caring either way. He just wanted to hear the results.

"Very well." Said Snape, sighing dramatically and unfolding the parchment. "Here it comes.

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_You have attained the following results in your OWL exams._

_Transfiguration: A_

_Charms: E_

_Potions: O_

_History of Magic: D_

_Astronomy: P_

_Defence against the Dark Arts: O_

_Care of Magical Creatures: E_

_Herbology: E_

_Divination: T_

_Please consider the subjects you wish to study this year. Take notice of the academic requirements of the subject and, once you have made your selection, complete the attached form and return it to us._

_Sincerely, Mrs Marlow_

_Head of School Concerns_

"Well. I must say I am surprised. Was your examiner so blinded by your fame that they overlooked your obvious ineptitude?" Snape spat, quite annoyed that Harry had done so well in the exam when he was almost always getting his potion wrong in class.

"No, I did not." Harry replied forcefully. He could stand a lot of insults about him and his parents or about his fame, but this was too much. He did not use his fame to cheat on his exams.

"Well, it doesn't matter now, anyway." Snape went on, ignoring Harry's reply. "Speaking of your schooling needs, hurry up and choose the subjects you want to take this year. I must speak with the Headmaster and explain the situation to him."

"Why would you need to do that? The Ministry sends a copy of a student's OWL results to their school, don't they? So the Headmaster would already know how I did, wouldn't he?" Harry asked, feeling confused.

"Of course he would. The Headmaster and I have much to discuss regarding your schooling and certain changes that will need to be made now that you no longer have the use of your sight."

"I realise that he must be told that I'm blind, sir." Harry agreed. "But I thought about it for a bit and it would be far less dangerous if I were to go back in a disguise, especially since the Slytherins would love to have their go at me." Harry confessed.

Snape cocked his head and thought about that suggestion. Begrudgingly he had to admit that the boy's argument had a certain merit. It would certainly make the situation easier for all of them to deal with if he wasn't the center of attention all the time. Though he would probably still be the centre of attention, since blind wizards were quite rare.

"How do you want to do this?" he inquired curiously.

"I thought I could tell everyone the same story you told Draco. But I think Dumbledore should be told the truth. This could all be very difficult to manage if the Headmaster doesn't know what's going on. A lot has happened since I left the school last year. I look so different to the way I did back then. I don't think anyone would recognise me. _You _didn't recognise me when you found me wandering around on your property. But I have a feeling Dumbledore would recognise me. If I went back to school as 'Harry Potter', I'd draw a lot of unwanted attention to both of us if I turned up with you. Come to think of it, I'd draw a lot of attention if I showed up with you – disguise or not.

Then there are the other students. They'd want to know why I changed so much over the summer. The newspapers would harass me even more than they already do. I don't think I can handle all of that, so I want to go back to Hogwarts as Laures Evans, the home-tutored wizard who decided that he'd like to complete his education at Hogwarts, the finest school for witches and wizards in the entire world. Laures Evans is a common enough muggle name, so it shouldn't raise any suspicion." Harry explained all of his concerns.

'_He seemed to have thought about this for quite some time.' _Snape realised amazed that the boy had given so much consideration to the whole situation. He noticed that Harry had found some courage and sounded more like the old Harry. He hadn't heard him sound this energetic and courageous since he found him after his uncle dumped him.

"Well, have you decided on your subjects?" he asked a little impatiently as he caught his train of thoughts. It wasn't like him to think this way about the annoying boy.

Harry thought for a moment about which subjects to drop. He didn't need to think twice about dropping Divination and History of Magic. He would NOT take them any longer than he absolutely had to and now that he was allowed to drop them, he couldn't get rid of them fast enough.

Sixth year students were required to study five core subjects and one elective.

Harry didn't know what wanted to be when he finished school, but Transfiguration, Charms, Defence, Herbology and Potions were basic requirements for most of jobs.

He was sure Ron would drop Potions in a heartbeat though, even if he scored the highest possible grade on his exam. He hated Snape to the bone.

Harry couldn't say that anymore. Snape was not so bad once you got to know him. He would never be an open and cheerful person, but Snape wouldn't be Snape if he wasn't silent and sullen. In the time Harry had spent living in Snape's house, he had come to know a slightly less sullen and moody side of him and, by Harry's reckoning, this is about as friendly as Snape got.

"I will take Transfiguration, Charms, Defence, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures and Potions." He finally announced.

"Very well. I will inform the headmaster of your choice. You can practise a bit more and if you want to you can ask the house-elf to bring you outside. I think Draco is already out there." Snape suggested, before he took the parchments and walked to the fireplace.

"Albus Dumbledore's Office," he shouted loudly and clearly before he disappeared from sight. Harry sighed and went back to practicing the two spells he'd learned that morning.

* * *

Severus stepped out of the fireplace and into Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster was sitting at his desk, attending to some very important-looking documents. Snape seated himself quietly in one of the squashy leather chairs in front of the large, and very cluttered, desk. The sun was shining brightly into the room, illuminating everything and the silver and glass contraptions, that were scattered about the room, twinkled and glistened in the sunlight. 

Most of the portraits that hung along the walls were sleeping, but some were looking at him out of the corners of their eyes, as though they were doing their best not to look interested. Others ignored him, just as the Headmaster was doing. Snape was sure that Dumbledore was making him wait deliberately, to test Snape's patience and see how long it would take for him to say something. But Snape was a man of endless patience in certain cases. He could wait a long time. Dumbledore wouldn't win this battle of wills.

He put down his quill and peered over his half-moon spectacles at his Potions Master. Snape shifted comfortably back in his chair and stared back at the old man. After some time, he sighed quietly.

"What brings you to me, my dear Severus? I hope not another summon from Voldemort." He inquired softly. Severus shook his head and leaned forwards, handing the Headmaster the papers he had brought with him.

"No, but I have found your precious Golden Boy." Snape said quietly, too quietly.

"You.. what? Where did you find him? Is he okay?" Dumbledore actually seemed to be shocked. It was quite a surprise, since the old many rarely showed any emotion to the world other than his carefully chosen one of mild curiosity. Severus laughed mirthlessly.

"He is well, no thanks to you. I told you that, some weeks ago, I happened to stumble upon a young boy, did I not? That boy is Potter. My property is unplottable and undetectable, which would explain why you could not have discovered his whereabouts. The fact that it only took you _two weeks_ to discover that he had even left the home of his relatives is simply astounding." Snape replied in a sour tone.

"I was staying with my brother, but when I returned, he was gone. I immediately directed everybody to look for him, but no one has been able to find him. If you remember, I also asked you if you had seen the boy." He looked at Severus disapprovingly.

"Yes, you did, but he introduced himself to me as Laures. It was only recently that I learned the truth about his identity." Snape said lightly. "Besides, Potter wouldn't have wanted me to tell you."

"Why would he not?" Dumbledore asked, hiding his confusion.

"Potter wants to come back to Hogwarts under a different name." Snape said, deliberately avoiding the subject of Harry's mistreatment.

"But you should have recognised him, despite the different name, should you not?" Dumbledore commented.

"Yes, well. He was hardly himself when he arrived. And except for the eyes and his scar, which was unrecognisable anyway, he looks like any ordinary boy." Snape went right on. "He has chosen 'Laures Evans' as his assumed name. He seems to think, as do I, that it would be better - and safer - if everybody simply assumed that 'Harry Potter' has gone into hiding. While everybody's attention is on the disappearance of your golden boy, nobody will notice Laures, sixth year student who, up until now, has been home-schooled by his parents and who wants nothing more than the chance to improve his skills at the world's leading school of witchcraft and wizardry."

"I will think of something to tell the press," Albus said, "Your plan has the added advantage that it will confuse Voldemort. He will know that Harry is alive somewhere, but he will not know where. I imagine that this thought will infuriate him more than anything else."

"Perhaps," Snape agreed. "He will be re-sorted and inserted into his classes without any further fuss being made. You will notice that his choice of subjects is very standard. He will draw no attention to himself in that way." He made a vague gesture towards the desk.

"I notice that Harry has decided to continue to study Potions. It is very sensible, though a small part of me thought he might have leapt at the chance to drop the subject. Are you sure you will be able to maintain your objectivity whilst teaching him, Severus?" Dumbledore asked, with a sidelong glance at the Potions Master.

"Of course I can. It is ridiculous that you would suggest otherwise," Severus replied defensively.

"Well, is there anything else?" the headmaster inquired, sensing Severus' growing bad mood. Something ugly was about to come, he was sure.

"You will never again return him to the care of his relatives." Snape said in a tone that left no room for argument.

"The wards around his aunt's house will protect him from being detected from Voldemort," Dumbledore argued.

"They will not, however, protect him from his own relatives." Snape replied hotly. "When I found Harry he had been beaten to within an inch of his life. Aside from the extensive scarring and some mild physical impairments he will be left with, he will be blind for the rest of his life."

"What!" Albus cried, outraged.

"He is completely blind. He cannot see even the brightest light. He has been beaten and raped. He has been so thoroughly traumatised by his experiences that, often, he cannot bear to be touched and he does not cope well when surrounded by many people, or people he is not familiar with. I could barely touch him to treat his injuries."

There was moment of shocked silence, before the headmaster visibly composed himself.

"I see. School will indeed be a very trying experience for him," Dumbledore said understandingly. "Although I would like to know how it could come to this."

"Ask them, maybe he will tell you. I do not understand why you left him in the care of those…animals," Snape almost yelled.

"I knew that they didn't give him the best treatment, but he didn't complain too much so I didn't think things were so bad," explained Dumbledore.

"Of course he didn't say anything. If the press found out that his relatives were abusing the boy-who-lived, they would have a field day. Besides, I am sure he has tried to tell you, in his own way, but you probably brushed him off and told him that he should not exaggerate. …I am right, aren't I?" he stated confidently.

"Well, I may have said _something_ like that, but..." Dumbledore said, trying to shift the blame away from him.

"I know what you're about to say and no! It's not okay," Snape interrupted harshly. "It was your recklessness that led to this. If you had kept a closer check on him, he would never have been injured like he has. He has lost far more than just his sight." Snape shouted enraged at so much irresponsibility.

"What do you intent to do now?" Dumbledore asked Severus wearily, looking every bit his age. He felt guilty, but anger was seething in him under the surface, too. He intended to have a little nice chat with the Dursleys later. He hid the emotions under a sorrowful expression, however.

"I already told you what is going to happen. He may stay with me for the time being, but you will need to make other arrangements for him." Severus advised him bluntly.

Regardless of what he'd just said though, he was not so sure that he could trust Dumbledore to make any more arrangements for Harry. He might just take the task on himself to make sure that it's been done properly. Then he turned on his heel and rushed to the fireplace to floo back home.

* * *

Harry was bored. Casting the spells over and over again was mind-numbing, though he had to admit that he needed the practise. He cast the spells a few more times, but he just couldn't bring himself to carry on any longer. He called the house-elf and asked to be led to Malfoy. 

He smiled faintly to himself as he remembered what had happened when Malfoy had woken up next to him, slightly more entangled with Harry as he had fallen asleep. He was furious to say the least. Screaming and yelling, he accused Harry of setting him up in that position. Well, Harry had, but he didn't have another choice, did he? Draco had fallen asleep in Harry's bed after all. So what was he to do?

Freaked and completely frightened, Harry had buried himself in the blankets. When he had calmed his pounding heart, he realized that it was Draco and not his uncle who was yelling. Draco had not noticed his fear, though, and stomped into his own room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry was walking down the corridor when his legs suddenly brushed something soft. Frozen to the spot, he concentrated on what was before him. There couldn't or at least shouldn't be anything.

The soft item rounded his legs and was purring loudly.

Harry recognized it. It was Snape's cat that he had met on his second or third day here. Now that he thought about it he wondered where it had been all the time. He picked Socrates up and cradled him against his chest, before he followed the house-elf once more.

They left the manor and walked along a path until they reached a small paddock. Harry could hear hoof beats and they reminded him of Snape who had also been riding when he'd found him.

"Mr Malfoy sir." the house elf squeaked loudly. The horse came near and stopped. Satisfied that he had fulfilled his task, the house elf vanished, leaving Harry and Draco in an uncomfortable silence.

"What do you want?" Draco asked a little awkwardly, breaking the silence.

"I.. er… I…" Harry realized he didn't actually know what he wanted from Draco at all.

Embarrassed he lowered his head and berated himself for his stupidity. He should not have come here, he thought miserably, he was only disturbing Draco.

"I'm sorry, I'll go." He mumbled and turned to leave. He hugged the cat more tightly and was about to walk away when Draco called him back. Bewildered he turned back around.

"What is it?" he asked hopefully.

"In contrast to you, I know what I want. Snape said we are to have some fun and we are just going to do that. Come here." Draco said directly.

Harry carefully sat Socrates down and slowly walked towards Draco's voice.

Suddenly he bumped into something hard. God, that hurt. He cursed, rubbing his painfully throbbing shin. While he was nursing his injured shin, Draco was laughing which made Harry scowl heavily at him. He wished that he had one of those guiding sticks blind Muggles used to avoid accidents like this.

It was awful walking on such uneven ground. But he had reached the fence, for that must have been what he had bumped into. He climbed over it awkwardly, making sure that he really had solid ground under his feet. Draco was helping by telling Harry where to put his feet.

Harry was sure that Draco was trying to be helpful, but his imprecise directions were rather painfully unhelpful.

"Give me your hand, please." Draco said when Harry caught up with him.

"Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Just give me your hand already. I'm not going to hurt you." Draco repeated impatiently.

Still unsure, he cautiously extended his hand. The other boy gently took hold of it and pressed it against the soft fur of the horse. He didn't let go, but moved their hands together, and Harry had the chance to feel Draco's warm and soft hand over his own. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but he didn't want to scare the other boy away by jerking his hand. The heat Draco emanated was stifling and made him very aware of his own body, tingling his skin. To distract himself, he admired the horse's coat, which was really smooth, but different from Socrates' soft fur.

"Do you want to ride?"

"Huh? But I never have…" Harry protested weakly.

"Doesn't matter, Laures. Come on. Everyone has to have sat on a horse once in his life." He baited Harry in a teasing tone.

"O..okay." He nodded faintly and mounted the horse nervously, helped by Draco.

"Relax, Laures. Horses know what you feel and adopt the feeling to themselves."

Harry nodded jerkily. He didn't feel reassured by that at all. This was his very first time on a horse and it didn't help that he couldn't see what was happening. He would just have to trust that Draco would lead the horse – and him – in the right direction. It was a bit like riding a hippogriff, he supposed, but it was quite different only to feel the movement and not seeing where you were going.

"So, what subjects did you choose?" Draco asked, grabbing the reigns and leading them slowly.

"Uhm.. The normal ones I suppose." Harry answered, shrugging.

"Severus said he found you, right?"

"Huh?" Harry blinked at the sudden change of topic. Then he nodded. Draco must have seen it or didn't care, because he went on talking.

"How did he find you?" Draco asked curiously.

"I was walking down a path and he was riding. He stopped when he saw me and picked me up. I must have passed out right about then. I woke up some time later in a bed with a cat on top of me." Harry said, a faint smile playing on his lips at the memory of the cat.

"Socrates is a strange cat. He disappears for a few days sometimes and then he suddenly shows up again, demanding food. He doesn't like me very much…" Draco commented lightly.

Harry didn't like where the questions were going so he changed the topic:

"Do you like sweets?"

"What?" Draco asked, sounding confused.

Harry ducked his head, thinking that he'd probably be hit for such a stupid question.

"Sorry. I'm just trying to do some small talk." He apologized.

"Oh, alright." Draco conceded, not sounding bothered at all. "Anyway, I do like sweets. Not often, but sometimes. Do you like them?" he returned the question.

"Yeah. Chocolate and gummy bears are the best." Harry said promptly and smiled. Draco laughed lightly, as if he was happy that Harry felt such childish joy for sweets. As a matter of fact, he had had a lot of sweets in the last years. Not from the Dursleys, no, but he bought a lot in Honeydukes in Hogsmeade.

Suddenly a house elf popped into the paddock. He horse seemed to know the elves though, because it walked calmly on as if nothing happened.

"Sirs is to come in. Lunch is being served in the small dining room." The small elf squeaked dutifully.

"Alright, Binka. We'll come in a moment." Draco assured the elf.

Harry dismounted the horse and his blond companion put it back into the stable.

* * *

Snape came home after lunch quite agitated. He said he wanted to be left alone for he would only get annoyed with Harry and Draco. They didn't understand why but they respected his wish. Neither wanted to make him angry. So they had to occupy themselves with something different than they had planned. Draco had wanted to practise potions and Harry had to learn how to work with potions at least a bit. They were indeed practicing for a while, but soon Draco grew exasperated with the other boy and they stopped. 

They were lying on some recliners on the patio now and Draco was both reading out loud and explaining a book about pure blood traditions to Harry. Harry had chosen the book, because he wanted to understand the old families like the Malfoys and the Weasleys better and why they had this dispute for so long.

In the end he wasn't any smarter than before, but he didn't dare asking Draco where the fight had come from. It would be strange as Laures didn't know the Weasleys yet, as well.

Draco went on with some reading on his own and Harry curled up on his side, enjoying the quiet afternoon with only birds chirping and the sun warming his body from the inside, he was quickly falling asleep in his deckchair.

* * *

Severus walked onto the patio to let the boys know that dinner was ready and found himself confronted with a strange picture. Both of them were sound asleep in their chairs. Draco's book still lay on his stomach and he was sprawled on the chair with his head resting on his shoulder. Harry was the exact opposite, lying on his side curled up in a seemingly uncomfortable position, but obviously resting quite peacefully. He hated to disturb them, since Harry needed the sleep and it wasn't often that he saw them resting so peacefully and at ease with each other, but they couldn't keep lying here. Draco already showed beginnings of a severe sunburn on his face and lower arms. As Draco had always been a light sleeper, Snape only had to shake his shoulder once to wake him up. Then he knelt down next to the chair that Harry was sleeping in. He regarded the face that was tense even in sleep and felt that unknown feeling well up again. 

"Laures, wake up, please." Severus called, knowing it was better not to touch him. At first, Harry didn't seem to have heard him at all. When Severus repeated his call, Harry whined faintly, curling up tighter.

"What is it, Severus?" Draco asked sleepily, before he yawned.

"It is dinner time. Go on in. I will be there with Laures in a minute." Snape tried to send him away, but it didn't work. Draco was even more interested now, probably wanting to know what Severus was going to tell the other boy. The funny thing was, Snape did not intend to talk to him very much. He just wanted to wake him.

"Laures, wake up!" he tried more sternly, ignoring Draco now. Harry still did not seem to want to wake up, so Snape gently brushed his shoulder which was enough to trigger one of Harry's worse memories. His mind unconsciously connected every unexpected touch with his uncle's touch.

"No, please. Go away. Don't touch me!" he cried, curling further into himself.

"Sht. It's okay. Calm down, Laures. It's me, Professor Snape." the Potions Master reassured Harry gently, carefully holding his wrists so he wouldn't hurt himself. Harry did not seem to hear him, though, as he thrashed and twisted away from Severus' hands. Draco watched the scene with morbid fascination.

"What's wrong with him?" he asked.

"You know that. Now go inside." Snape replied as Draco did indeed know. He pulled his wand out of his pocket. Severus did not have the patience needed to calm Harry without magic at the moment and cast a Calming Charm at him. Harry's desperate movements to break away slowed down and he opened teary eyes. For a moment Severus was scared of the empty eyes gazing unseeingly through him. He didn't know how to react to Harry like that, not knowing what emotions Harry felt after this. Deciding to remain unattached and distant, he collected himself and cautiously put a hand on Harry's lower arm.

"Come on. Get up, Laures." Said Severus, his voice soothing and deep. He helped Harry to his feet and led him into the dining room on shaky and wobbly legs.

"Eat your dinner and take a shower before you go to bed." Snape advised him. He was still angry with himself for not being able to help Harry adequately. "Will you let Draco help you?"

"I'll have to if you have no time, right?" Harry sighed, sounding braver than he was. He still felt a bit nervous after his latest breakdown.

"By the way, can you get me a cane to help me find my way about Hogwarts? Like the Muggles use when they can't see. I may know your house and I can feel the magic sometimes, but that will be no help in Hogwarts." Harry turned a hopeful face towards Snape.

"I'll see what I can do." Snape answered non-commitingly.

"Thank you!" Harry replied softly, a content smile playing on his lips.

Draco, who seemed to feel ignored, said indignantly.

"I never said I would take a shower with that child. That's going too far, Severus."

"You will do as I say, Draco. I assure you, you won't like the consequences if you don't!" Snape hissed menacingly. Harry shrank away. Snape sounded like his uncle did when he was angry. As much as Harry tried to forget what his uncle had done to him, it seemed that a thousand little things a day would trigger something in his memory, scaring him. There was no telling what his uncle would do to him when he became angry. Snape was a good deal more dangerous than his uncle, so there was no telling what he could do to him if he was angry enough. It didn't help that Harry couldn't see what Snape was doing either. On the one hand, he knew that he was safe now. He knew that the Potions Master had taken him in and seen to his injuries. On the other hand, the Potions Master wasn't a man to be trifled with either.

"…this fighting!" Harry heard Snape yell before silence descended on the room, only broken by the harsh breathing of Snape and a mocking snort by Draco.

"You may go, Laures." Snape said in a much calmer voice.

Harry nodded jerkily, pushing back from the table and walking to the door. On the threshold he turned back.

"Are you coming?" he asked Draco quietly.

"Yeah…" Draco sighed resignedly, but he stood up and followed Harry. They walked back to Harry's room in an uncomfortable silence. Neither knew what to say to the other after Draco had been so dismissive at dinner. They reached Harry's room and had to part ways.

"I'll be with you in a moment. Get undressed and get some towels from the house elves." Draco said softly, trying to be nicer than before. His earlier anger hadn't been directed at Harry, per se. It was just that he couldn't stand having anyone making decisions for him, like Snape had done and he had lashed out.

"Thank you, Draco." Harry replied softly.

"It's nothing. I'll be with you in a minute." Draco waved the gratitude away.

* * *

Harry entered his room, which was a lot warmer than the corridor as it seemed to have windows towards south. He let the warmth soak into him for a moment, before he called a house elf. 

"Can you please give me a few towels and my pyjama?"

"Binka would be delighted to, sir." The elf squealed happily and a second later he was given what he had asked for. Thanking the elf, he stumbled to the bathroom where he dropped his armload onto the closed toilet lid. Then he quickly stripped off his clothes and felt his way to the shower stall.

He sat down in it, waiting for the blonde boy. He pulled his shins to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. His black hair pooled around his back, dull red-green eyes downcast. He was nervous. He knew that his body had to look hideous. His family had made sure that gruesome scars decorated his body. He couldn't imagine that anyone would want to touch him. Would Draco want to touch him? Or would he refuse like he had wanted to at dinner?

'_I don't want him to see me like this.'_ He thought miserably. _'Unfortunately, I cannot even shower for myself. I'm a complete invalid…'_

His thoughts were cut off when Draco came in. If Draco noticed anything unusual about Harry, he said nothing. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and turned the water on.

"Is this okay, or is it too cold?" Draco asked, gently spraying a bit water over Harry's legs with the showerhead.

"It's okay." Harry assured him. And it really was. The water was warm, but not too hot.

"Good. Now come on. Turn around so I can wash your hair." Draco instructed.

Reluctantly the small boy turned his back to the young Malfoy. His wet hair clung to his body and was quite heavy.

"What's that on your back?" Draco demanded outraged, when he brushed the hair away and saw the scars littering Harry's back.

"Nothing." Harry snapped defensively, swivelling around to face the aristocratic boy again. He lowered his face as not to look at Draco. "Nothing." He murmured again.

"No. Tell me!" Draco insisted, grabbing Harry's shoulders and barely restraining himself from shaking the answers out of him. Harry didn't know what to do. On the one hand he wanted Draco to know about the whole thing, but on the other hand, he didn't want to have to talk about it. While he was contemplating the situation, Draco had resumed the hair wash.

Finally, after some tense minutes in which Draco went on massaging the shampoo into Harry's hair, Harry said fearfully.

"Promise me you won't hold it against me what I'm about to tell you."

"I promise." The request seemed strange to Draco, but he agreed solemnly.

"Okay. First of all, I don't know if you had realised it, but I'm sixteen years old and in your year at Hogwarts. The story that the professor has told you is a cover for me, since I don't want to go back under my old name." He began, a fleeting smile graced his features from the strangeness of the whole situation.

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"That's what I'm gonna tell you now." He replied.

"Oh, okay. Go on then."

"Okay." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he told the same story of his rape, the blinding and his time in wilderness that he already told professor Snape. It was easier the second time, but he still started crying again and he had to pause a few times before he could go on as the memories threatened to overwhelm him.

"Well, that's it. I haven't told you the most important fact about me yet, though, because I'm not sure how you'll react. That's why I told you this first. Are you alright with that?"

"Oh, Laures." He whispered and then Harry felt two arms embrace him and pull him close to the other body. Now he was sitting at a right angle between Draco's spread legs. He stiffened at first, being so close to the other and was uncomfortable, but he soon relaxed against the strong chest which was breathing rhythmically next to him.

When his awareness shifted to the outside again, he was cold and clammy.

"I'm making you all wet." He complained miserably.

"It's okay." Draco soothed him softly. His cheek was pressed against Harry's damp hair. "I don't care. I have to take a shower anyway."

Harry barked a laugh, but his laughter turned into sobs a moment later and he started crying again. Burying his head in Draco's chest, he tried to hide his tears that rolled down his cheeks. He was upset about the incident with his uncle and with the other overwhelming emotions from all that had happened in the last few days, the strain was too much and he just broke down.

Draco held him through all this, silently rocking him. Harry allowed it. Draco was warm and not saying anything to him about this.

"You okay now? Good, because I have a question, too." Draco asked, and though he tried to suppress the anger in his tone, Harry noticed it.

"Who are your relatives? I really would like to hurt them now." He said seething. Then he suddenly exclaimed. "Wait a moment. The people we visited yesterday, where we got your things. Are they your relatives!"

"Yes, but please don't leave." Harry quickly said, grabbing his sleeve. Not that this would have prevented Draco from going, but he realised that he couldn't leave Harry alone here.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and be reasonable again.

"It is really strange that you are as old as me, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Harry said, pulling his shins tighter to his chest.

"And I really have never seen you before. Are you sure you attended Hogwarts all these years?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes!" Harry emphasised.

"But-"

"I looked different when I was at school." Harry interrupted him. "For instance, I had short hair, shorter than you. And my eyes certainly did not look the way they do now. At least, I think they changed." Harry explained.

"And all this has to do with your hidden identity…" Draco formed the question more like a doubtful statement he didn't really believe in. Then he changed the topic.

"Where did you get a photo of me? I certainly never allowed such a photo to be taken of me."

"You know Colin. He has the strangest photos of the weirdest situations and is always there when you don't need him." Harry said, smiling fondly.

"You mean Creevey?" Draco fumed.

"Yeah, him." Harry confirmed, smiling at the furious Draco.

* * *

After the shower Draco helped Harry into his bed and went to his room. It was still quite early, but the events of the day had worn Harry out. He took his photos out of the top drawer of his bedside dresser and tried to "feel" them, but fell asleep before too long. 

---

Cold hands touched his torso, pushing him back onto the bed. The other man leaned over him and kissed him gently on the mouth. The kisses were languid and loving. Blond wisps of hair brushed Harry's cheeks and tickled him. His eyes were closed and his arms circled the other man's waist, hugging him tightly. His weight was comforting and Harry thought it felt right for the weight to be there. The blond man's hand caressed Harry's cheeks, making him feel even more loved and his heart burned with it.

Then the other man started rubbing his hips ever so slightly against Harry's crotch. Pleasure and arousal rose within him, taking his breath away. He moaned quietly, pressing back. The pressure and pace increased and the man over him became heavier. His breath turned into to harsh panting which skimmed his cheeks, smelling of alcohol. A deep rough voice said something, but he couldn't understand him. The large man was bearing down on him, almost crushing him with his weight. His hands turned hot and clammy.

Harry started to panic. He opened his eyes and tried to push the other away, but it was no use. A scratchy pair of lips pressed down on his own, thrusting his tongue forcefully in Harry's mouth. Now Harry was seriously wondering what was going on until he recognized the person over him as his uncle. It was as if a blurred picture suddenly grew sharp. Terrified he lashed out with his hands, clawing and screaming. He felt very vulnerable in his state of undress with only a shirt and boxers.

Suddenly a slap slashed across his face and Harry stopped screaming, but he was still sniffing and whimpering in pain. He had quit fighting and lay passively on the bed. He had realised that fighting was no use, so he saved himself the pain and tried to get through it as quickly as possible. His uncle wasted no time either and pulled Harry's boxers down, arranging himself. He spread Harry's legs apart and positioned himself at his entrance before he pushed in with one smooth thrust with his well-lubed prick. At first, Harry felt nothing, but then pain erupted in his arse taking his breath away. He jerked and arched his back, tears running down his cheeks, before he slumped onto the bed and blacked out.

---

He woke up from the nightmare, panting and crying. He felt sick and promptly threw up over the edge of his four-poster when he turned his head and dizziness kicked in. Trying to calm down he pressed his face into his pillow and took a few deep breaths, but it wasn't working. He was shaking badly and every time he closed his eyes and wanted to relax to go back to sleep, his nightmare resurfaced and scared him even more.

He only knew one solution. Going to either Snape or Draco and asking for calming and sleeping potions, but since he didn't know where Snape's bedroom was, it left only the younger Slytherin. Extracting his limbs from the sweat soaked covers, he climbed out of the bed and crept with weak knees along the corridor to the other room.

In Draco's room, he was absolutely silent and tried to evaluate where the sleeping boy's soft breathing came from. Feeling around until he found the four-poster, he crawled into Draco's bed, not caring about a potion anymore.

'_Draco is enough to help me, I think.'_

The aforementioned Slytherin didn't notice him and slept on. Harry lifted the covers and slipped in. He soon found Draco and pressed himself into his back, feeling himself begin to calm down a little and ease back to sleep. The warm and slender body helped him to forget, in some small way, what he had just dreamed about. This slightly cold body was so different from his uncle's. Draco was so different from his uncle. He was glad that he had told Draco about his past. It had felt right at the time. With Draco and Snape to help him, he would get through this yet.

TBC

* * *

hi, 

this is the last prewritten chapter, so make yourselves comfortable for a long wait.

anyway, thank you all for your kind reviews.

cyu as


	14. Part I

**Chapter Fourteen: Part I **

Harry yawned quietly when he woke and snuggled closer to the calming warmth, feeling content. He wasn't really awake yet as he did not realize what he did - seeking comfort from another being was instinctive, but under normal circumstances he'd never have done it - too scared of rejection.

"Laures…"

Someone sighed. The voice sounded resigned as if he knew of Harry's affection and, although he didn't return the feeling, didn't want to turn him away.

Harry recognized the voice and blushed fiercely. Sitting up he moved away from Draco.

"Sorry" he apologized softly, picking nervously at the bedspread with two fingers. He was worried about Draco's reaction and confused about his feelings. He liked Draco, no questions there, but his mind told him it was wrong. Draco was a Malfoy, a supporter of the Dark Arts, if not Voldemort himself. Remembering Draco from his past, he couldn't find anything likable about him except for his looks, but that was no reason to like somebody. When he thought of Draco and the way his eyes shone when he was smiling in the picture a warmth spread through him that lightened his heart.

"Don't say sorry all the time." Draco chided annoyed. "Although I do would like to know what excuse you have to be here in my bed." Harry heard that he wasn't really angry, more like concerned and Harry knew he didn't want to receive another scolding from Snape, so he was trying not to scare him.

"I had a nightmare and I don't know where Snape's rooms are to get a sleeping potion. You were asleep and I didn't want to wake you." Harry answered truthfully, although he was desperate not to get yelled at for crawling into his bed unasked.

"Jeez, calm down, would you? I'm not about to bite your head off." Draco was clearly annoyed.

"Really?" Harry hated being so insecure, but when you have no sight to varifie what you are told, you have to trust that people are honest which was difficult for Harry seeing who he was with. To ward off the chill and not to feel so exposed, he wrapped the blankets around his shoulders.

Protests were immediate, of course.

"Hey! No stealing the covers. Give me back my half."

Harry blushed and losened the hold on them so Draco could pull them back, but he was smiling lightly.

'_He is so childish sometimes, it's cute.'_ He would have liked to ruffle Draco's hair, but he thought that would go too far. It was still a nice thought. He wondered what Draco would look like with disshelved hair.

With an abrupt jerk, Draco had his covers back.

"Hmpf." Harry's smile widened at his frustrated huff.

"Tell me, why did you want to do all this by hand again? The house elves could do that." Harry was amused by Draco's panicked attitude to find everything as well as annoyed.

"The house elves are _not_ touching my things."

"That's stupid. They touch them all the time. For example when they tidy up or something."

"Laures," Draco said with an irritated sigh, probably turning to set an penetrating stare on Harry as if that would make him understand. "House elves have magic, they don't need to."

"Well, then they don't need to touch them to pack your suitcases either." Harry concluded. Another sigh was the only answer for a long time. Finally Draco got himself to reply again.

"I want to have everything arranged my way, okay?"

It was said in such a way that indicated the conversation was closed. To distract himself from Draco's constant walking, Harry tapped his cane lightly against the desk he was sitting on. He had gotten it from Snape this morning at breakfast. The way back to his room was a lot easier now, but he still turned the wrong corridor twice. Snape had informed them that today was the last day before school started again and Draco had promtly announced that he would need at least the whole morning to pack. He had only been at Snape Manor for a few days, but his stuff still got strewn about the room, the parlour, the potion labs and various other rooms. Harry was wondering how someone like Draco could be so messy when he grew up a Malfoy and pureblood. Then again, he thought, Draco grew up with house elves as well. They probably cleaned up after him all the time.

His own stuff was all in one trunk that the house elf gathered for him. He had no problems with elves, especially because he was in no mood to grope and fumble with his stuff to get it into his trunk.

"Laures, stop it!" Draco nearly screamed.

"Sorry." Harry apologised, but he wasn't really sorry. Listening to Draco was quite funny. Harry really couldn't understand why he made himself so agitated. He was always so neat and particular, he wouldn't even do the folding of his clothes with magic. Harry wisely didn't question it, because it most likely originated from his lack of talent in charms which meant he sucked at packing spells.

"Have you seen my potions book for next year?" Draco asked him, although he seemed to be looking for something different already. Harry decided to try his magic and let it search for the book. The magic made him feel and know where the textbook was. It lay on the table in one of the labs. He accioed it silently. It arrived a short time later.

"Draco?"

"Not now. I'm busy."

"Draco!"

"What!"

"Here is your potions text." Harry said sweetly which seemed to annoy him greatly, because he snatched it roughly out of his outstretched hand and chucked it carelessly on the bed. It landed with a _ploff_ and he quickly walked into the bathroom.

Eventually, Harry had had enough of his frantic behaviour and saw only one solution to calm him down. He called Draco to himself where he sat on the desk. When he was within reach, he pulled him betwee his legs. Draco seemed quite confused, but complied not knowing where this was leading.

Harry slipped his arms boldly around Draco's waist and hugged him close. At first, Draco appeared to want to extricate himself, but acquiesced soon and put his arms around Harry's shoulders, too.

His breathing deepened and tranquility settled over them like a blanket of silence. Harry relaxed, not having noticed that he had tensed up while Draco became more hectic.

The sat an endless time in this position until Draco got a bit restless, obviously remembering his packing adventure. Harry did not release him, though. He slowly skimmed along his sides and reached up to cup Draco's cheeks gently. Then he pulled him down and their lips touched softly. It was only seconds, but they left a tingling feeling of pure bliss and ecstasy in Harry. It was perfect. Their mouths moulded together like they were made for it.

Draco seemed petrified, but not in fear. He didn't know how to react, lest he hurt Harry.

Harry ended the kiss slowly and then pressed his face into Draco's broad chest. He inhaled deeply to get to know Draco's unique scent. This and the parfum of his clothes made Harry relax all subconscious tension and feel content.

When he felt Draco getting restless he let him go and sat back. He waited for a reaction, but Draco seemed to be speechless. Harry waited for him to come back to earth, enjoying the silence which was only permeated by their slow breaths.

After Draco did come back to himself, however, he ignored the incident and went on packing. Harry didn't know what to think of that. It could be that Draco was really shy, but Harry rather thought that he didn't like him that way or he was angry and hated him.

Harry tried not to let his nervousness and anticipation show, but it was hard. Draco shouldn't know about his disappointment if the kiss meant nothing to him, because Harry did not want him to change his mind in pity. He wanted true love and affection from him provided he felt that way for Harry.

Harry really did not want to force himself on Draco. That was one of the most horrible things he could imagine somebody could do to someone else.

**sorry everyone. i'm really really sorry. i had a kinda writing block. it was not so much that i didn't know what to write, more like i couldn't get myself to go on with it. i'm really sorry that this is so short, too, but it is what i had written previously. i sincerely appologise to all my readers but the next chapter will have to wait, i'm afraid.  
i just posted this so you know that i didn't abandon you. **

**cyu as**


	15. Chapter 14: Part II Hogwarts

**Chapter fourteen: Hogwarts  
**

The next day wasn't any less hectic than the one before and it started with Draco dawdling in the bath. Finally realising what time it was, he panicked and started his last minute packing. 

In the meantime Harry slowly had made his way to the kitchen where Snape already sat, drinking his coffee.

"Morning." Harry greeted when he came in. "What is for breakfast?"

He covered a yawn with one hand while the other tapped his cane on the floor until he found a chair.

"Ask Minka." came Snape's slightly muffled reply. A paper rustled.

After calling the house elf for his breakfast, Harry asked curiously.

"When will we leave here and how?"

"We will ride a carriage to King's Cross Station and you two will border the train. I will apparate to Hogwarts directly."

"Alright." Harry agreed easily.

* * *

They walked through the barrier with Snape. Harry was already shivering with dread. His fear of crowded places made him cling to Snape's side who wrapped an arm protectively around his shoulders to guide and anchor him. The train whistled every other second. The chatter of the students saying goodbye to their parents and the racket of their pets, everything mingled together to a blanket of noise descending upon Harry. 

It was nearly impossible for him to find his way, because his cane constantly bumped into something or someone, making him even more grateful for Snape's support.

Draco was walking behind them since he was lugging all the baggage.

Harry thought he was strangely quiet, but maybe he just didn't hear his complaints as his hearing was already working overload.

When they arrived at a door, they loaded all the trunks and suitcases onto the train. When they were finished, Harry gave Snape a quick, but strong hug to say goodbye, before he entered the train, stumbling.

He entered their compartment and gratefully sat down. Draco stayed longer to talk to Snape, presumely about him concerning his condition and giving some last-minute advice on how to help.

The whistle blew one last time and the doors closed themselves magically.

A moment later, Draco came in and slumped into a seat across from Harry.

"Now we are heading for another year with the old fool and his entourage." Draco sighed. He seemed to be of two minds on this. On the one hand, he didn't like the teachers, but on the other hand, he wanted to see his friends again and learn some new potions or mean spells to scare the Gryffindor first years.

Their trip went by undisturbed and fast. They had already changed into their robes before coming to the station, so they could watch the chaos unconcerned. The high noise level was getting on Harry's nerves, though. He hoped the rest of the day would pass soon, so he could be in his silent dormitory.

Upon arriving at the castle, he was pulled out of the crowd into the adjoining chamber of the Great Hall where the rest of the first years was waiting to be sorted.

The whispered assumptions of what would occur in little time was amusing and thankfully distracted Harry from his own reason to be here. Amusing was the fact that no one dared to ask Harry what could happen, considering that he was much older and more experienced in the magical world especially Hogwarts.

He was soon getting impatient wondering why it took so long. Surely it hadn't taken this long when he was a first year, six years ago?

Finally he heard the door open and an instant later a bony hand gripped his elbow in a death grip.

He was led into the Great Hall where whispers rose as soon as he entered. It was understandable as it was very unusual for a non-first year to come to Hogwarts.

After everyone had shuffled to the front between Head table and the four house tables, the Headmaster started his annual speech.

"Welcome back, everyone! I wish you had a good holiday, so that you are ready for a new year full of learning." his eyes were twinkling madly, and although Harry couldn't see that, he almost could hear it by his tone.

"Well, let's not wait any longer and commence with the Sorting!"

From there McGonagall took over and called up the students in alphabetical order to sit on the small stool.

When the last student had been sorted, McGonagall announced.

"This year we even have a new student joining us that will not be in first year. He will be in sixth year. Since he is blind, he has been home-schooled until now. I should inform you about some things concerning Mr Evans. You are under no circumstances to curse, hex or otherwise prank him in any way. The same applies to his cane. Is that understood? " Mutual agreement was murmured on all sides.

"Good. Now, Laures Evans, please step forward." McGonagall said much more gentle than before. She led him to the stool where he sat down and the hat was placed on his head. It still reached low over his face and hid most of his eyes.

_"Well, let's see."_ the hat whispered in Harry's mind. _"You've been here before, haven't you? I never forget any child I sorted within these walls. Hm... You don't want to belong to Gryffindor anymore? Have found a family, didn't you? ...So, not Gryffindor, but Slytherin won't do either... Oh, don't be disappointed. You'd drown in there. They are not kindly sinned towards handicapped people. Then we have Rawenclaw, but you have no thirst for knowledge just to know. That means you'll be a good last option. Not to stir bad memories, but just think of proud Cedric Diggory and how happy he was with Helga's lot."_

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Sorting Hat shouted a second later and Harry took it off with glowing cheeks. Professor McGonagall showed him to his table where he reluctantly sat down. He was greeted quite enthusiastically, but all he wished for was a glance at Draco and Snape to evaluate their reactions.

He nervously waited for Dumbledore to finish his speech, telling everyone that Harry Potter wouldn't attend school this year for he had gone into hiding to train for the last battle with Voldemort. The students cried out in dismay at that, especially the Gryffindors. Whereas, the Slytherins just seemed to be glad to be rid of the Golden Boy and the Ravenclaws didn't say much at all.

When the food finally appeared, Harry asked his neighbour to list the dishes on the table clockwise, not concerned about 'Harry Potter' at all, since that was himself. As Evans he couldn't have had much contact with Harry Potter, so that shouldn't bother him either.

He didn't have a chance to escape his housemates in order to talk to Draco or Professor Snape after dinner, and hoped he could do so in the morning. When he entered the common room, he was bombarded with questions and invitations. They surrounded him like a hive of bees, pushing him to a sitting area near a fireplace.

"Where did you live?" "Why were you home-schooled?" "By whom have you been taught?"

Some even dared to ask: "Why are you blind?"

Harry neither had the time nor did he want to answer all these questions, so he mostly said nothing. They were all talking against each other, anyway. That is, until one of the braver students, most likely a prefect, called a halt to the turmoil and tried to send everybody to their dormitories. The younger years were righteously cowed and obediently went to bed. The older ones stayed for a while until they realised Harry wouldn't tell them anything. Then he was taken up to his bed by one of his year mates.

His sleep was plagued by nightmares and some of the time he was lying there half-awake. Despite his bad night, he felt quite alert when his new mates woke him up in the morning.

He had packed all books into his bag, so he wouldn't have to go back here to collect the correct ones when he got the timetable. Being blind, he had to consider if it was worth going the way twice, if he did not really have to.

When he entered the Great Hall, heated whispering broke out.

'_Nothing unusual there.'_ Harry thought glumly. _'I'm still the centre of attention. I wish I could at least talk to Draco.'_

He had no such luck, since a lot of people were swarming around him, trying to question him again and again.

'_I should put a sheet on the notice board with all the questions and answers, so they stop bothering me.'_ He thought wryly.

He tried to ignore most of the students and concentrated on his food. They only left him alone when the timetables were handed out, though. He breathed a silent sigh of relief and tucked in. When he got his own timetable finally, he asked the boy beside him to read it out slowly for him. He still didn't know his name, but he was kind and supporting, not so overwhelming like the rest.

* * *

School started on a Thursday this year, and the first lesson, he had was Charms. After that he had a free period until lunch and in the afternoon he had Potions and Care of Magical Creatures. 

Harry liked his timetable, alone for the fact that he had no Potions first thing in the morning. He had always hated that.

When everyone got up and left the Great Hall, Harry asked his neighbour, whose name he now knew:

"Nick, what lesson do you have now? Can you please lead me to Charms?"

"I'm sorry, Laures. I have Herbology now."

"Oh, all right." Harry replied softly. Standing awkwardly, he headed where everyone else was going. In the slightly emptier Entrance Hall, Harry halted and waited. He didn't know for what, aimlessly trying to orientate himself.

"Hey, Laures. What do you have now?"

"Draco? Oh God, you are here. I thought Id lost you. I have Charms, but I don't know how to get there." At the end of the sentence, he blushed and his voice almost died away completely.

"You are lucky. I have Charms, too, and after that Ancient Runes." Draco declared matter of factly. "Well, come on. Let's go, or we will be late."

Harry nodded and thrust out his hand for Draco to take. His hand jerked at the initial contact, but he grasped Draco's hand more firmly after it.

* * *

Harry and Draco were waiting in front of the Potions classroom just after lunch, talking softly about his living arrangements and his housemates. 

"So you're really alright with being in Hufflepuff? I don't think I could do that. But I suppose it fits you best."

"Yes, I didn't think so before, but now I think I wouldn't survive the other houses. The Hufflepuffs are very curious, but they leave me alone most of the time." Harry agreed.

"That's good, then. Anyway, I always go to uncle Severus after the fist day of school. Do you want to come with me?" Draco asked quietly, so that the others wouldn't hear.

"Yeah, alright. How do you think he'll be in Potions? Is he different when he teaches one on one?" Harry asked, pretending not to know the answer to that.

"Yes, I suppose. He is always favourable to the Slytherins, but he can be downright mean to the other houses."

"Make way!" Professor Snape bellowed as he arrived to open the door. The students quickly scuttled out of his way as not to draw his wrath upon them.

Harry and Draco entered last, so it would be easier for Harry to walk who was very grateful for his consideration.

"Welcome to your sixth year of Potions. Everyone who subscribed for this subject will have to do his best with the greatest effort or you are to never come back to this class, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." The whole class chorused not very enthusiastic. A few students groaned and muttered some obscenities under their breaths. Harry wondered how he was to absolve his potions without his sight, but just as he thought about it, Snape commented on that.

"If I see just one cauldron exploding this year, you will sit detention for a month. And if Mr Evans is hurt by your stupidity, it will be detention for the rest of the year." Snape barked, seeming to be in a very dark mood.

Harry could imagine the fierce scowl that was edged into Professor Snape features quite clearly, shuddering slightly as he remembered the piercing stare that was normally fixed on him when Snape talked like that.

"Now everyone get their cauldrons out and start preparing your ingredients. You may use cupboards two and seven for additional supplies. The recipe is on the board."

A few seconds later when nobody had moved, be bellowed: "What are you waiting for, you dunderheads. Get on with it."

A furious scrambling arose and everyone was trying to be the first at the cupboards, that is except Harry who still sat a bit fearfully on his chair. He needn't have worried, though, as Snape approached him when the others were busy.

"Mr Evans, you may work together with Draco to the best of your abilities. I will allow you to decide what you are able to do just this once. Ask him for explanations and let him tell you _quietly_ about the potions preparation and its development."

"Yes, sir." Harry sent a little smile in his direction.

* * *

The other teachers had been equally negligent in his participation in class. They sometimes only gave him written homework and he could sit at his table, being bored out of his mind. The first real incident happened about three weeks into term during Defence against the Dark Arts, when they should have been practicing a variant of the binding spell. Aim and control were very important for this, making it impossible for Harry to try in a full classroom. Also, he couldn't check whether it had worked and would be distracting the other students too much from their own spells. 

That's why Harry sat in a corner at the back of the class, listening to his classmates and twirling his wand between his fingers.

"Hey," somebody whispered a voice to his right. At first, Harry didn't know who the other was talking to and therefore ignored her.

"Evans." She called this time.

Harry wondered who it could be. It had to be one of the Gryffindors because the Hufflepuffs did not pester him much anymore and only in the common rooms, asking if he needed anything they could help with. Harry found it amusing, but also annoying that they treated him like an cripple when he was _only _blind. Anyway, back to the problem at hand. Harry turned his head to the girl, to show that he was listening.

"Why are never doing anything in class?" the girl asked quite imperiously.

'_She sounds almost like Hermione,_' he thought. _'Maybe it actually is her? Some friend I have been for the last five years. I can't even remember her voice.'_ He shook his head mentally in disbelief.

"I can't just shoot spells around the room when I don't know what I'm doing at all, can I?" He hissed back quietly.

Well, you shouldn't just sit here, doing nothing, you know?" she admonished him in the know-it-all way that was so uniquely Hermione that Harry finally recognised his friend. He groaned internally. She was about to make a scene, he just knew it.

Stop it, will you? That's between the professor and me!" Harry told her far more bravely than he felt. He was scared wanted to hide. He wanted Draco to protect and stand up for him, but he had Arithmancy now.

"That's…that's…" she spluttered and then exclaimed. "I can't believe this!"

"Whatever is the matter, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Durham in a silky, but dangerous tone. He was a bit like Snape in his mannerism with the death glares and the biting comments when he found a suitable victim, but he was much kinder than Snape in general and a better teacher. Harry had come to like Snape's snarky personality, but he had to admit Snape was a horrible teacher, although he'd never tell him that.

Professor Durham even looked a bit like Snape. He was pale with a smooth skin (contrary to Snape's wrinkles) and black shoulder lengths hair with pale lavender coloured eyes that seemed to see everything. He was also very tall, at least 6"3', but he wasn't stalking like Snape did, he was much more graceful in his motions. That is to say, this is what Draco had described him to be like and who kind of admired his new defence professor, so it probably wasn't the complete truth.

"I… I…" Hermione stuttered, very embarrassed at being caught talking in class. She would most likely blushing like a tomato right now, Harry thought.

"I was wondering why Evans never has to do anything. He's just sitting around all the time." She blurted, maybe even throwing a nasty look in Harry's direction.

Harry followed the conversation avidly. _'Only she can be so stupid. She's is just digging herself in deeper and deeper if she goes on like this. Professor Durham is very against students questioning his ways of teaching.'_

"Does he now…Is it any of your concern, though?" he asked with a sickly sweet tone that was mocking her openly. He was nearer now, Harry heard, maybe halfway down the aisle.

Hermione, who didn't know what to say anymore, was stuttering incoherently.

"If you don't have anything to say anymore, go back to your seat and continue with today's task." Professor said dismissively and walked back to the front of the class.

"Yes, professor" Hermione replied chastised. Harry imagined her standing there with her head bowed, on the verge of tears. He didn't want to sound mean, but she deserved the rebuff. He couldn't stand her nosing in his business, especially now that he had something so big to hide. She mustn't get close to him, lest she recognised him somehow, by way of speech or movements.

Half an hour later the bell rang eventually and everyone was glad to be able to leave. Harry dallied behind until he felt his professor next to him. He held his arm out for Durham to take and lead him to the door where Draco would be waiting to take over.

The transfer happened silently and only when the door had closed behind his professor did Harry throw himself into Draco's arms, trembling like mad.

TBC

* * *

Thank you for all your reviews. I have finally found some energy to go on for a bit. the story will probably have 3 or 4 more chapters... i don't really know yet. 

I will try to finish it before next year, but I cannot promise anything. just bear with me, please-

cyu as


	16. Chapter 15 everyday problems

Chapter fifteen everyday problems

_Half an hour later the bell rang eventually and everyone was glad to be able to leave. Harry dallied behind until he felt his professor next to him. He held his arm out for Durham to take and lead him to the door where Draco would be waiting to take over. _

_The transfer happened silently and only when the door had closed behind his professor did Harry throw himself into Draco's arms, trembling like mad._

"Hey, what's wrong?" he murmured into Harry's mop of hair, rubbing his back soothingly.

"This girl… Granger… she…" Harry forced out, his voice wavering brokenly. "She said I was lazy."

He was trying so hard, living with his blindness coupled with his fear of foreign touch, it wasn't fair of her to accuse him of this. Squeezing his eyes shut, he buried his face deeper into the crook of Draco's neck. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't.

Where was the brave boy from last year, he wondered. At times he surprised himself with his complete change of behaviour. He didn't know why he reacted so violently to his surroundings, but it annoyed him that he had been so sensitive recently.

Still shaking from the aftermath of his outburst, he could not believe that Hermione had upset him so much. During the last five years that she had been his friend, she had never been able to unsettle him as much as today, although she had been more forceful and harsh before.

It was as if he had known Harry's train of thought, because Draco said.

"Come on. This was your last lesson for today, wasn't it?" he asked gently, shifting his bag more securely onto his shoulder. "I'll take you to Severus."

Though it hadn't been a question really, Harry nodded against his chest in agreement and detached himself, though only so far that they could walk. Draco wrapped his arm around his shoulders and glared at everyone who even looked in their direction, so they were left alone.

A while later they arrived at Snape's office and Draco knocked softly, then entering the office without waiting for Snape to call them in.

Professor Snape rose from his chair, glaring at them for coming in uninvited and was about to shout at them when Draco shot his godfather a scathing glance to shut him up.

At first, Snape returned the glower, but then he noticed Harry's miserable state and his gaze grew worried. Draco sent him an understanding look and untangled himself from Harry to hand him over.

Snape stepped near and took him gently into his arms.

Harry let it all wash over him passively, lost in thoughts, as he was carried through a door and set upon a couch where he was pulled close to a body again. It was warm and quiet, enabling Harry to relax his tense posture.

"What happened, Draco?" Snape demanded sharply, but in a lowered tone as not to disturb Harry any further.

"Granger happened." Draco replied bitterly, while he played with Harry's left hand. He had sat down on Harry's other side, staring vacantly at the low table in front of them. He didn't see Snape's raised eyebrow, but he didn't have to, in order to know that he should explain that statement further.

"As far as I could gather, the mudblood called him lazy or some shit because he wasn't participating in Charms."

"Language, Draco!" Professor Snape scolded him.

"Well, it's true." Draco argued back, turning to look at Snape with a glare. This time, Snape didn't say anything to it, but asked instead.

"What was today's agenda in class?"

"I don't know, he didn't tell me. Ask him." He shrugged .

"We did a charm to clean glasses or windows." Harry mumbled, turning his head to the side, embarrassedly.

"Why don't you show me? You are not lazy, Laures." Snape reassured him. "I know you can do it. And if not, I'll help you."

"Yeah, there's nothing you can damage here, Laures." Draco quipped playfully.

At that, Harry 'looked' indignantly at Draco, before requesting a glass to be given to him. Then he reached out with his magic, assessing the object to clean. The residue of his magic residing in the glass was enough for him to locate it after he sat it down on the table. Next he picked up his wand and flicked it at the item while he slowly said: "Purgare vitrum".

When he was done, he waited nervously for a result.

"Not perfect, but definitely a start." Snape commented, rubbing his back reassuringly.

"Yeah, it's way better than what I managed yesterday." Draco added supportingly. When Harry didn't react to that, only nodding bashfully, an uneasy silence descended upon the three of them.

"Good. Now that this crisis is averted, I'm allowed to go back to my work, am I?" Snape inquired wryly, trying to lift the sombre mood again.

"Yes, " Harry whispered and a smile ghosted over his face, leaving him feeling much better than before. He turned to Snape and hugged him tightly, before letting go of him completely, so he could get up. A sense of gratitude washed over him and any tension left dissipated. He was calm and at peace at the moment, which made him become daring, so he leant back and cuddled into Draco's side.

It had been a trying day for Harry, with all the excitement and only slowly getting used not to see where he was going, especially at Hogwarts, which always been his home, thus meaning a lot to him. It also meant having to find a person patient enough to bear with his disability.

There were lot's of gentle souls who tried to be helpful, but most of the time, they were just the opposite in Harry's opinion. Most people didn't pay attention to the small things in everyday life, because they unconsciously sidstepped them, like a suit of armor standing in a corner.

Which is why he was quite exhausted now.

Harry, who was content to do nothing and soak up Draco's warmth, sat curled up on the couch, sleepily leaning on Draco who had snatched himself a book, as playing a pillow and doing nothing else was getting pretty boring very quickly. Or rather, he tried to read the book. Trying being the proverbial word, since Harry decided he wasn't tired enough to be silent, thus asking – in Draco's opinion - annoying questions about the chapter he was reading, because Draco was adamantly refusing to read it all out loud.

The playful banter ebbed away, though, when Harry got more tired, yawning every few minutes. Finally, Draco had enough and put the book away to bring Harry to bed. He picked him up carefully, Harry's head lolling against his chest, and not making a sound.

After removing some of his clothes, so he would be more comfortable, Draco tucked him in.

"Good night, my baby!" he said affectionately, but Harry was sleeping soundly. Only the slight huffs of his breathing were audible. Draco sat a long time on the edge of the bed watching his friend in the darkness, not even lit by moonlight, as they were in Snape's quarters in the dungeons. Wondering about his feelings for the boy and if it would scare Harry even more if he tried to form a relationship with him.

The incident of the previous day should not stay a one-time occurrence, as people still seemed to think none too highly of Professor Snape and thus wanted to get to him by upsetting his son. Laures, being as instable as he was at the moment, could not take what they said to him most of the time, so either Draco or Snape had to be called to calm him down.

Eventually, the whole school realized that apart from his blindness, Laures was an emotional wreck. They teased him mercilessy and Harry started to seek refuge in the sanctuary that Snape's quarters represented.

"I want them to stop." Harry announced one evening, but it came out more like a plea.

"Who?" Snape asked, although he already had his suspicions what Harry was talking about.

"Them." Harry said unhelpfully, waving his hand in a circle around himself.

In a corner of his mind, Harry still felt ashamed that he had fallen apart so much, but he couldn't stop his whiny behaviour. It was as if he was caught in an everlasting circle of thoughts. Thoughts about his inability to save himself from his uncle. His incapability to live with his handycap without being a burden to other people, which he was. He knew he was straining the nerves of his professor to the utmost sometimes.

He felt guilty for doing so, and he should ask for counselling to get back on his own feed after this spectacular fall. It was just, that he couldn't gather his courage to approach his professor, for if he spoke it out loud, it would make it more real, more final than it already was.

Final, that he had gone mental and needed help, or, if one would listen to the others, in a mental hospital.

"Don't worry, Harry. Eventually, everything will be all right, even though you can't believe that at the moment. Trust me, okay?"

'_Trust you?' _he thought. _'Last year, I would have hexed you, just for mentioning that notion, but now it's not too far off the mark anymore. I could almost trust you consciously. I already did, concerning my blindness, where I had no choice but to believe what you said._'

"Okay," Harry agreed, despite not seeing any light at the horizont in which he could believe, just as Snape had said.

"Oh, Harry. Could you be any more melodramatic?" Harry knew that Snape was only talking to him like that to get a rise, any emotion out of him at all, except for the depression into which he had slipped, slowly but unstoppable. He wondered about that sentence with a curious sense of detachment from the whole issue. As if that weren't really his own problems, but another's.

But it was true, he mused. He was depressed. Wallowing in self-pity, breaking into hysterical fits, and feeling dead tired – when he wasn't panicking – were sure signs of depression. He had read that in some magazin, when he had had to wait for his relatives some years ago.

Breaking out of his thoughts, he tried to glare at Snape for his comment, but it was difficult.

"I didn't want to tell you this, in case I had to disappoint you and your hopes, but … It cannot go on like this. You have to get a grip on yourself. This is not the end of the world. Your life will go on, even if you can never see anything again. Otherwise you could go and kill yourself now. But I know you would never do that, for Black and your parents would have died in vain to protect your life."

A smile appeared on Harry's face suddenly. It not only irritated Snape imensely, as Harry clearly wasn't taking this as seriously as he should, be was also quite confused as to why he would smile at all. It had become a rare sight this year.

"Please, come to the point, Severus." Harry stressed his first name, since he didn't want to sound presumptuous. It was strange that he could smile in a situation like this, when the mention of his godfather had always brought tears to his eyes before. This speech, however, was so typically Snape that he could do nothing but smile, even if he was talking about such a sad topic.

Harry couldn't see it, but he heard it in his voice, that Snape was now glaring at him furiously, making him feel a bit lighter that there still existed some normality.

"Right." Snape replied tersely. "As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me…" He paused importantly, and probably sent a meaningful look in Harry's direction. "You know that I am trying to develop a formula that will, if not cure, at least help your eyes, so you gain at least some sight back."

Harry nodded hesitantly. He didn't dare hope that Snape had already found a potion to cure his eyes. That was unrealistic, but he couldn't help but feel some hope bloom in his heart that there could be a chance for him to get his sight back.

"And I made some important progress in the last few days. Maybe I will have a test variation ready by Halloween for you to try." Snape declared proudly.

"Really?" Harry asked faintly.

"Yes!" Snape replied decisively.

"Oh God." Harry couldn't help it, but his emotions regarding that topic seemed to have been repressed, regardless of how much he had cried in the last weeks, so he burst into shuddering sobs that wrenched his whole body, whispering "Oh God!" again and again.

Snape, clearly not anticipating this reaction, got quite worried.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry had to try a few times, before his shaking had subsided enough for him to get anything coherent out of his mouth.

"N-nothing. Really. I'm…I'm just so happy that there is a chance for me after all."

Strong arms wrapped around him and helped him to calm down again.

He couldn't really describe how he felt. On the one hand, he hadn't given up hope for his eyes completely yet, but on the other hand, he was so relieved that his deepest fear, never to see again, would most likely not come true. All the horrors he had envisioned that came along with being blind like playing Quidditch, walking around without outside help or even reading seemed to recede to the back of his mind again, making him ever more grateful for Snape's abilities and more aware of what a priceless gift being able to see was, which he would never again take for granted.

tbc

well, that's that. sorry for the long wait. i had to move because of work and i just finished school and everything, but now i have more time to write.  
so hopefully there will be the next chapter within the next 2 months. if there's anyone who wants to beta this and coming chapters, please, contact me.

cheers

astrido


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